


Operation: Katabasis

by felicia_angel



Series: Tear You Apart [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: 69, Alternate Universe, Chris being treated like a possession, Chris has issues, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Erotic Electrostimulation, Gen, Have you seen jessica's attempts to flirt with Chris?, I have issues with Raymond and Jessica, I'm not nice to Chris, It's cringeworthy and disgusting and seriously wtf, Jill and Sheva being BAMF, Let's work that out with MURDER, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Body Modification, RE5 rewrite, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Resident Evil 5, Tentacle Rape, experimentations, have you seen uroboros transformations there is no way i can't have tentacle rape in these stories, story-heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13718925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicia_angel/pseuds/felicia_angel
Summary: In Kijuju, a war has broken out between Excella's TRICELL branch and Wesker's new independent streak, all thanks to his capture and 'conquest' of Chris Redfield. To this end, Excella Giovanne has brought in her two best operatives, Raymond Vester and Jessica Sherawat, to take Chris off Wesker's hands and remind him of what hereallywants.Jill Valentine is having none of this nonsense and is only here to get Chris back and, possibly, shoot Wesker in the face with a rocket launcher. Anyone else in the blast radius who are trying to hurt Chris is just lucky she's not REALLY upset.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I think it was bull that Jill didn't go and get Chris back in RE6. Also I should probably actually play these games sometime sooner rather than later...I'm writing for RE5 and have never played a game. Still. Be gentle! ^^
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, Lullite! I couldn't find you here, but she's help me refine the story and make it work a bit better than before.  
>  
> 
> Katabasis is a term used for descending somewhere, and is used to describe both depression that young men can feel (supposedly attributed to a lack of various MANLY things that are somehow not there now...because Jung was NEVER WRONG) or describing a descent into the underworld, especially when it comes to getting someone from being stuck there.

**_Kijuju - 2010_ **

 

The blond-haired man knows that the B.S.A.A. are on their way to Kijuju, especially after the “tip off” that their local informant has gotten. The trade of a new B.O.W. that Excella promised others is a big thing, but bigger still is the prospect of taking back one of the B.S.A.A.’s own. It’s likely that one of _his_ trained men, or even a small army, will descend upon Kijuju’s Autonomous Zone in the hopes of retrieving what they believe to be theirs.

On the ground, Lenka pants in agony, trying to fight back the malady that is incubating in him. He doesn’t show the weeks of torment that he was put through, but then again, neither does the cloaked figure prowling around Lenka like a tiger moving in for the kill. He is obviously male, with the broad shoulders and heavy steps, but the cat-like mask and the blue-gray cloak obscure his identity from anyone who may stumble onto the scene. From a makeshift seat nearby, the blond smugly watches the infection progress in his former second-in-command. Tricell has also been infecting many people in Kijuju with Uroboros and Las Plagas, either by force or under the guise of vaccinations, but what he gave Lenka...

The radio briefly crackles with the static of a found channel. It makes the cloaked, stalking figure falter in his movement. Lenka grabs at the cloaked man, who pulls away as dark tendrils and tentacle-like appendages emerge out of Lenka’s skin, from where the larger viral body was inserted painfully. Black bleeds into Lenka’s eyes. Only a bit of red remains, the last sign of the Prototype virus he carries.

“ _Captain DeChant here_ ,” a voice says over the radio, “ _We’ve secured the underground route to the coordinates._ ”

“Is he good?” The blond asks as the cloaked figure walks away from Lenka, whose pained moans are beginning to sound inhuman as his transformation continues. The cloaked figure cocks his head to the side, as if wondering who is being asking about.

“Our dear captain and his men – are they a good team?”

There is a sullen silence before a tight nod.

“Good. Then we won’t have to witness anything, will we?” Albert Wesker smiles at the cloaked man he captured and kept with him for so long. The red eyes of the mask glow briefly. Wesker all but feels the tension emanating from the other man. The cloaked and hidden Chris Redfield never likes watching his former teammates deal with bio organic weapons, and he likes seeing them confront new variations even less, especially if it end in multiple deaths.

“The rest of the tests on Uroboros will begin later. In the meantime, there’s work to be done.”

Back when Wesker had first taken him, Chris once said that he’ll kill Lenka and Wesker both. Who could have known how well he would succeed in defeating one of the two men who’d taken so much pleasure from and changed so much about him.

=

Jill Valentine sighs as she loosens the tight bun of her hair. For the past month, she has been operating incognito as a potential aid worker than for her actual job, which she is now dressed for. She is clad in the new bodysuit the boys at R&D made for her. Beside her, Sheva Alomar, her liaison in Kijuju and a new member of the East Africa B.S.A.A., checks and readies her pistol and other weapons with a practiced ease that Jill has only seen in a few of the newer recruits. It puts Jill’s earlier worries to rest, though Sheva’s motions only remind her that this is her _new_ partner.

She pulls out the one personal thing she found and brought with her, even though she is out of practice with it. She does her best to not get angry. She doesn’t know if she’ll even find Chris here, if the intel is correct. But if it is, and she finds him...

_Not yet. Get everything together and keep it that way, Valentine. You need to find him._

Nivans was upset that he wasn’t cleared for this mission, but she did her best to prepare him for his mission to find the mercenary that Little and Ramiro mentioned in their debriefing. With the two’s testimonies on Simmons’s involvement with Umbrella and the destruction of Raccoon City, the B.S.A.A. managed, with some maneuvering, to arrest him. Sherry Birkin is now helping Leon Kennedy in the Secret Service, no longer under Simmons’s watchful and dangerous eye.

That leaves the mercenary from Edonia. Wesker has shown enough interest in him, to the point of sending Little after him, before Little and Ramiro were captured and released from the…device that was on them. It resulted in Ramiro all but quitting the B.S.A.A., or as much as one can after being traumatized in such a way. Little is partially better, though he remains laser-focused on finding the mercenary in Edonia. Everyone, Jill included, can’t help but fear what would happen if Little found the mysterious mercenary on his own.

It is why she wants Nivans with Little instead of with her. She can handle everything that comes up and easily deal with Jessica Sherawat and Excella Gionne. She can handle a misogynistic country with tensions running high from political strife, and she can definitely handle whatever TRICELL will throw at her.

“What do you know about Uroboros?”

Their local informant’s question snaps her out of her reverie. She considering the answer before pulling her cap over her head to hide her blond hair and most of her face. “Rumors, talk about a doomsday project.”

_Every virus has been a doomsday project. That’s what Spencer wanted, some sort of apocalypse to recreate mankind in his image. That’s what Wesker is aiming for, and what Gionne and the others are facilitating._

_What do they have Chris caught up in…_

“Doomsday sounds about right,” the man answers in a thick accent, his face free of the turban and scarf he previously used to hide himself, “and apparently, it is no rumor.”

Sheva looks incredulous, but Jill is unfazed by this new information, not after every other biohazard incident she has faced since S.T.A.R.S.’s betrayal at the Arklay mansion. The man shakes his head and answers Sheva’s unstated question, “Irving’s our only lead, even after we brought in the other two. Whatever those two are doing, Irving’s in the middle of it.”

Jill nods in understanding. Even after the extra month – a month where she went to Kijuju early to prove she is able to go there without this suit, to get _any_ scrap of evidence that will help her understand what had happened to Chris so she can get him back – the only lead to Wesker, Gionne, and Sherawat is Irving.

_Find him, I can get Chris back._

_Hold on, Chris. I will get you back, no matter what._

=

Chris tugs on the restraints securing his outstretched arms to a heavy wooden support suspended near the headboard of the unmade bed. Cursing under his breath, he tries to free himself while his mind is clear of the mind-control drug Wesker has been injecting him with. He is groggy and unfocused from the drug’s after effects, but continues to claw towards any possibility of escape from his sick captor and his inhuman focus.

Alpha team is dead, or will be soon, and…and he…he is…

_“You said you’d kill him,” Wesker whispered in his ear. The strange, dissociative sensation, like he was a distant bystander to what was unfolding before him, made him unable to disobey the suggestion. “I’m sure that with this, you can keep that promise.”_

_The clump of Uroboros virus was heavy in his hand, pulsing unnaturally as some of the tendrils prepared to dig into his skin in search of a host, but stopped short. All the viruses were doing that now, because…because he’s…_

I’m not, I’m not, no, that’s not true, it’s not!

 _“It doesn’t matter where it goes,” Wesker pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and fixed the mask over his face, “as  long as it ends up_ in _the body.”_

_“WESKER!” The voice was the one who’d helped Wesker after the first…after…and…and…_

_Zane, Hosea, Ramiro, Hawkins…everyone…dead and raped and… **it’s his fault**_ **. _Why not give in? I did say I’d kill him. I will._**

**_I’ll kill him like he killed Zane and Hawkins._ **

_The floating, divorced sensation fell over Chris like a fog as he stalked menacingly towards the man and pushed him down, holding him head down, ass up, and—_

“The chemicals barely held up, I see.”

Chris freezes at the voice of his tormentor. The man takes off his sunglasses as he enters, closing the door behind him. “I’m sure that you’re going to stay silent as usual, or perhaps simply be upset, but I do need to get input about how things are going from you and you alone.”

He resumes struggling as Wesker puts down the cat-like mask, a tangible reminder of what he unleashed earlier because of his weakness of mind. He allowed the drug to take over and now, another team is going to be dead, infected, or…

A hand grips his hair tightly, the blond having no qualms about manhandling the other at his mercy. Wesker’s eyes are still red and reptilian, but the yellow is growing more prominent. Chris tries to hide his escalating fear. His shoulders and neck still ache from the aftermath of the last time Wesker’s eyes were like that. It happened after Wesker decided that torture was just as fun as rape and humiliation. The end result on his body is a patchwork of long, thin scars from broken switches and canes, black and blue bruises slowly fading into greenish splotches, and bitemarks that are just beginning to scar over. The first bite mark has been redone at least twice. Another mirrors it higher up on the other side of the neck, impossible to hide unless he wears a turtleneck.

The results of Wesker’s earlier “experiment” before drugging him up linger painfully along his back and sides. One cut along his flank is stinging even hours afterwards. Wesker tilts his head like a panther and watches intently. The simple motion is enough to let Chris know that Wesker’s control is gone, and probably will be for hours.

He gasps as Wesker’s grip tightens on the still-raw wound, tossing and turning in a vain attempt to free himself. An animalistic growl paralyzes him with fear, eliciting memories that are almost enough to override the urge to escape.

_Please no, no, not again, no!_

“Mine,” Wesker growls out, pulling Chris’s legs up higher and securing them to something overhead. As a pulley mechanism of some kind grinds into motion, his legs and ass are pulled up while his shoulders are lowered onto the bed. It’s an awkward and painful position, his ass too high up and most of his weight resting on aching shoulders. He is pulled closer to the edge of the bed so that his head is no longer supported, causing a dizzying rush of blood to his head. Wesker leans forward to lick along Chris’s length, which jumps eagerly at the attention. Chris tries to stay quiet as his traitorous body responds. He tightly closes his eyes, in pain from the awkward position and disoriented from the blood going to his head, even as more of it is redirected to his rapidly hardening cock.

His position suddenly changes without warning. He finds himself kneeling on the floor instead of being on the barren bed. He has yet to process the reason for the change before his jaw is gripped tightly and forced open. Wesker shoves savagely into his mouth, almost hitting the back of his throat. Chris chokes, seeing stars. His vision blurs from the lack of oxygen, airway obstructed by the relentless pace. Wesker pulls out briefly to let him suck in a hungry breath. He coughs hoarsely, face a mess of saliva, snot and tears. Before he can recover, Wesker throws him face down onto the bed. He is bent over the shorter width of the mattress with his head hanging down, then flipped onto his back.

“You suck my cock so well, I should return the favor.” Wesker climbs over to nip at the bruised and scarred skin. A hand returns to pry open his jaw, before Wesker shoves in again. He tries to twist out of the madman’s grip, but his own cock is unexpectedly taken into something warm and welcoming. He lets out an involuntary groan of pleasure at the sensation, the pain momentarily forgotten. Wesker begins to lick and worship the length of Chris’s cock while he moves in Chris’s mouth, the slow pace almost loving.

_Stop, stop this, stop…_

It’s worse than the torture and rape from before, because now he’s participating. He can’t stop himself from just letting go of his anger and just…and…

_NO! NOT WITH HIM! STOP! STOP!_

His body begins to react on instinct, hips stuttering up even as he tries and fails to to get in air, to think, to do something to stop this. As his body responds enthusiastically to Wesker’s ministrations, he almost wants to give in despite the pain and awkward angles, just to make it easier, to—

_NO! S-ST-STOP, S-AH-NO, NOT…NAH…NNNN…NO…_

If he gives into Wesker’s sick games, he might not…he…

_No…_

He moans at his own release, the hot warmth of Wesker’s mouth swallowing everything. The blond shifts once more to casually fuck his mouth, pulling out briefly at times to give him air. A hand is wrapped around his throat while the other holds his jaw open. He gags as Wesker shoots down his throat, some of it coming back up. He hacks up the rest.

“Now then,” Wesker’s voice is calm and collected, his eyes red once more. He gently wipes away tears, snot, and cum from Chris’s cheek. “We have some time before we have to get back to work. Let’s spend it well, right Chris?”

=

His Pointman is still defiant, still fighting, but at times, Wesker can see signs of his surrender getting closer and closer. As much as he wants to continue using the P30, or maybe even a similar delivery system for the P30 that is keeping the other subjects permanently in line, Chris needs to be fully Wesker’s of his own volition, not just a slave in body while rebelling in mind. He has to learn that no one is going to save him and he can never escape Wesker’s hold on him.

Of course, Chris is giving in more and more. Earlier, he reciprocated the blow job that Wesker gave him and moaned in pleasure rather than pain. Eager to see how far he can push Chris this time, he tightens his grip on the younger man’s hips, causing him to inhale sharply. Chris is struggling in the modified pillory that Wesker made for him based on the older one Lenka offered up, back when the man was alive and trying to convince Wesker to give up Chris after having him. His ass is red from the punishment for his earlier defiance. More stripes from the switch mark his torso. The electro-stimulators attached to him power up again, his cock twitching from the jolt. His wrists twist futilely in the confines of the cuffs.  

As enjoyable as it is to take Chris’s mouth, Wesker also enjoys giving him so much pleasure and watch his body strain to seek out more of what it desperately needs. Stimulating Chris in this way, then taking him from whichever direction sounds good for the day, always make the days go faster. Even when he denies Chris attention for days at a time, sometimes putting him in the sensory deprivation chamber running only white noise or old reports in the background, he finds himself thinking far more clearly and working far more efficiently than ever before.

Two months, and already, he knows every inch of Chris’s body - what makes him scream in pleasure or pain, how best to hold him down, where best to string him up. Right now, the electrodes are on his front while a hook with multiple progressively larger metal spheres vibrate minutely in his ass. Wesker watches the play of muscles as they spasm helplessly from the maddening vibrations down the hook. He wants badly to pull out the spider gag and take Chris’ mouth again, but he knows if he does, he may not be able to hold back as much as he wants.

_Still…a clear mind is needed for when we deal with Irving, Vester, Sherawat...and with the B.S.A.A. team…_

_I wonder if they sent Jill, and if not, what they told her to keep her away._

He grabs a fistful of Chris’s hair, making the younger man glare tiredly at him. Chuckling, he holds up the gag, “Are you going to be a good boy today, or will I have to discipline you again?”

The machine briefly powers down. Chris almost sobs from overstimulation as he is kept from orgasm for the umpteenth time, but he grits his teeth, obviously not wanting to give in.

“If you let me,” he whispers, letting go of Chris’s hair to smooth it down while tracing a finger along his jaw, “I’ll let you cum, and I might even let you have a few minutes free in your little cell before we get back to our schedule. But you’d best make up your mind quickly, Chris. You know how…tight…things are.”

“f-fu…” His captive’s breathing is high-pitched and unsteady. His eyes are unfocused as the buildup of pleasure becomes painful. As the machine restarts on schedule, Chris is overwhelmed by stimulation once more .

“I need an answer, Chris.”

The brown eyes are squeezed shut in distress. There is a long internal struggle before his face crumples and he finally chokes out a barely audible “yes.”

Wesker’s smile widens, “Yes?”

Chris’s tearful expression is a mixture of defeat and anguish. A bit of the old defiance is still there, though greatly diminished for the moment. His Pointman is going to keep resisting in the future, but right now…

Wesker cups his cheek affectionately as more tears fall. “Open, Chris. I’ll be quick.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill and Sheva work to get closer to Irving and, thus, closer to Chris. Meanwhile, Chris wakes up from a bad dream, and Wesker thinks over the same experiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thank you to my beta lullite, who helps to make things clearer and with my problem of rambling in sentences!

Jill puts her head down as she looks over the bodies of the Alpha team that they are supposed to meet up with. Nearby, Sheva looks upset, shifting uncomfortably as she eyes the bodies. They barely had time to get their bearings before having to escape the infested town, shooting down anything in their way. Then, they had to lure a previously undocumented type of B.O.W. to a furnace in order to kill it with the high heat. The human host, or at least what little they saw of it underneath the writhing mass of black worms that made up the body, seemed to hint that…

They head to the vehicles that Alpha team left behind, easily finding the secure upload for the B.S.A.A. that was created after the incidents with the FBC. Sheva relaxes by a fraction after learning that the B.O.W. they fought is probably what Irving is selling and a setup for everyone. Except…

“It was either Irving or Wesker who set it up, and set _us_ up,” Jill mutters, typing and getting ready to transmit the data.

“Irving or…who?”

Albert Wesker, a disgruntled TRICELL...operative, I suppose is the best word for him, though he’s been working with various companies for years. It’s likely the B.O.W. we fought was his doing, in order to throw us off. I don’t know who the person you saw was, or whose side they were on. From what little we’ve seen of this fighting, though, we’re lucky to be alive.”

As Jill finishes typing the first few strings of commands, Sheva still looks crestfallen.

“If only we could have gotten there sooner.”

The sentiment is understandable. Jill knows it well from her own time, but sadly she is becoming almost inured to the feeling. “If we had,” she says without making eye contact, thinking of her time in the Mansion, of waking up and seeing Vickers but not really Vickers, of the month of waiting before learning about Chris’s fate, then another month spent just showing she could be trusted in the field, before they’d gotten anything on Irving, Wesker, and his sick obsession with Chris, “We’d probably be dead too.”

Sheva is silent. Jill finishes updating HQ, who replies with new orders – the two of them are to head to the other side of the hostile town to check in with HQ and secure Irving, no matter what.

The new B.O.W. they encountered and the Ganado-like actions of the villagers don’t matter. Irving and his intel do.

_“Chris Redfield went into a bad situation, and is now considered MIA. Not only that, he’s been in the company of a known terrorist for two months.”_

_“You heard Little and Ramiro’s reports!”_

_“I did. That doesn’t change the fact that we’ve only had them for three weeks. Anything could have happened in those three weeks when Redfield was with Wesker.”_

Anything can happen, and it appears that they are now expendables in a hostile area, with only their target to consider. She needs to find Irving. Then she’ll be one step closer to finding Chris, closer to dealing with Wesker.

“We might be expendable,” she reassures Sheva, “but we’re going to get through this.”

=

_The thing was black with tentacles that flowed around him like water. Holding him in place, they pulled his arms behind his back to expose his front for exploration. A thick, heavy tentacle covered his eyes, blocking his vision. Chris remembered being dragged in by a blank-faced Ramiro, but somewhere behind it, he’d seen dread, self-loathing, and attempts to resist whatever was controlling him._

_It hadn’t been enough. Despite his best efforts, Ramiro and Little tossed him in with this thing. Now it was holding him tight, surveying every inch of him. He hissed and squirmed with every shallow thrust into his ass, pain lancing through his spine. He couldn’t hold back a howl when it finally shoved into him fully. A questing tentacle forced its way into his mouth as his head was pulled back. The thing slithered further and further in, past the point of him gagging.  In the midst of the stench and pain, he tried desperately to suck in air through his nose._

_The torture went on. The tentacle down his throat felt like it was almost hitting his stomach while the other penetrated him savagely. A pull on his ass seemed to signal the intent for more to follow. He thrashed against the creature, but was too weak to escape. Where the tentacles weren’t flowing like water over him, they were unyielding steel. The thing pulled and touched in ways he vaguely recognized that Wesker had done before, when he had overstimulated Chris into a frenzy of pleasure and self-hatred._

_But this was just agony – violating, all-consuming agony. When it was suddenly gone (torn away?), he barely managed to turn to one side before emptying the contents of his stomach. A clear liquid, mostly acid and water, spilled out of his mouth. His body attempted to to curl into a fetal position, but something else grabbed him and shoved him down, pushing his face into the watery vomit. The pain picked up again, raw and unending. He let out another scream--_

Chris wakes from the nightmare with a start, his body resisting the familiar pull of the “feeding chair,” as he calls it. His hands are behind his back, caught in the slot in the back of the chair. The leather straps along his arms bind them together with barely any give. His legs are also tied together, which thankfully means that Wesker is done with raping him, and is now probably going to feed him or inject him with the drug that makes him more “open” to orders. The thought makes him shudder, but it’s better to think about this than what happened earlier when the sadist tortured him… and what he agreed to do to make it stop… He gags at the lingering taste in his mouth.

 _Stop,_ he tells himself. He glances up when the door opens. Wesker steps into the spartan cell. Chris is almost grateful to see the familiar room he’s normally fed in, but feels vulnerable all the same. _Don’t think about that. I have to get out of here._

“Awake already, Chris?” Wesker leers at him. “You’ve been doing so well recently. I thought I’d give you a treat.”

“I hope it’s your untimely death, you sick sonuva--”

A gloved hand easily fixes his head in place as a thumb digs in to the back of his head, forcing him to into the dark shades. Wesker makes a hum like an upset dog trainer before smirking again and releasing his head. The blond sets down a small tray with a syringe of the obedience drug or...whatever it was, and the damned mask Chris is forced wear when he is under the drug’s influence.

“The B.S.A.A. agents have so far done marvelous work - Lenka is dead and they’re making progress in locating Irving.”

Chris remains quiet, trying to keep up with the news. Wesker seems determined to overload his mind with information, all of it probably the half-truths that Wesker so enjoys spewing. Even so, he still does his best to remember as much as possible so that when he does escape, he’ll at least be able to give the B.S.A.A. _something_ for all the trouble he’s caused.

“I also have word that Raymond Vester is going to be with them.”

He blinks in confusion at the name. Vester is with who? He’d seen him with the FBC, working to expose the Chairman, but Vester’s not with the B.S.A.A.. He has no reason to be in Africa, unless he’s…

“I was told he and Ms. Sherawat made wonderful progress by bringing in the t-Abyss virus to TRICELL for study. The few scraps of battle data and other important information we managed to glean from the infection on the _Queen Zenobia_ and its sister ship, as well as at Terragria, were minimal.” Chris is still reeling from the news as Wesker continues, “Even after you destroyed the mansion and its evidence, there was still enough data from that incident to fill entire _files_ in the Red Queen. TRICELL believes them both to be useful employees, but if they cannot gather as much data as a saboteur, then said usefulness is obviously...lacking.” The hand moves from the side of his face to ruffle his hair, as if approving of all the times he had ruined the fruition of Wesker’s painstakingly laid out plans, leaving the villain to take second place or even the door prize. “Irving’s become a rather costly liability as well, but Excella won’t see it like that...not after he’s infected a few villages to show the capabilities of their virus, and especially not when Sherawat wants to use him to get to us...well, you. What’s a few people if it means having the great Chris Redfield all to herself?”

He feels rage starting to build up at the mention of the experiments, along with the remembered pain of being left at the mercy of a few of them, when Wesker had decided to show Chris who he “belonged” to. He only remembers pain, followed by an indeterminate period of impenetrable darkness and silence inside the sensory deprivation box that left him clawing at the frayed ends of his sanity. Wesker had resumed the regularly scheduled torment immediately after taking him out of the box. However, the madman has now become focused on ending TRICELL and its Uroboros experiments, seemingly determined to wipe out any trace of the monsters that he’d let rape Chris, as if to prove a point.

This has not stopped Chris from hating the others. He wants to take down TRICELL and end their plans. Wesker has already gone mad from power, but what TRICELL is doing goes well beyond that. At least he is no longer aiding TRICELL, instead choosing to cut his losses and run well before the company fell, but this… They’re going to burn down the world for...what?

“We’re going to have to head out soon, if you want to make it in time to meet Excella. I’m sure she will be pleased to see us again.”

Chris doesn’t even see the mask until it’s suddenly slipped over his face. He cries out in alarm and shakes his head at the sudden darkness, trying to rattle it loose. The sensation of a needle going into the back of his neck near the spine makes him freeze.

“Your treat for the day is to get back at that woman who betrayed you and tried to mislead you about the t-Abyss virus. You wouldn’t want that virus out and about, would you?”

Chris is quickly becoming submerged in the strange feeling that his body is no longer under his own control. The straps on his arms are released, followed soon after by those on his legs. As much as he wants to get up and run, fight back, do _something_ , his body remains motionless in the seat...waiting for orders.

“You didn’t answer my question, Chris,” Wesker’s steady voice washes over him in the darkness like a wave, sending him spiraling further down into the drug-induced fog. “The t-Abyss virus, the one you saw onboard those ships...do you think TRICELL has a variant strain of it?”

His head immediately shakes in reply, even as he screams inside the confines of his mind.

“You’re right, of course. But if there was one, I’d think Vester or Sherawat would be helping to oversee its production, since they survived their past encounters with the virus. So, should we go give our condolences and terminate Irving’s employment before he infects a well? That was his next move.”

**The bastard would contaminate a well, ground water, even a stream just to infect others? He’d go that far for money? The fuck does he think he’ll use that for when shit finally does hit the fan, when everyone’s dead? What use is that when everyone’s dead?**

_Stop, no, this is what he wants, this is...I won’t, I can’t, he can--the B.S.A.A. will…_

“Stand.”

His body complies. Doing to Irving what Wesker demands will not just be shooting or killing him. It will be like what happened with Lenka - Chris will infect him, which will only end in the deaths of more agents and innocents at the hands of a rampaging monster.

The leather straps on his outfit are clipped loosely along his arms and legs, a convenient way to restrain him out in the field when the need arises. The cloak is pulled over his head to complete the transformation. Wesker waits until he can see through the mask.

“If there are confirmed kills to the others, we’ll take Irving down. Between the two of us, nothing can stand in our way. Just like before.”

_The mansion was different. I was a fool and trusted you then. You shot Rebecca just to get rid of any potential witnesses. You betrayed us! You used us!_

**But by the end of that mission...how many of those t-virus zombies were left? Five? None? The only thing we ran into on our way out was that monster he called “perfect.” He might have betrayed us, but we made a _damn_ fine team.**

_NO! NEVER AGAIN! HE BETRAYED US. HE MURDERED THEM!_

He falls into step beside Wesker, his body moving at the megalomaniac’s command. He tries to quash the dark thoughts that have been brought to the forefront by the drug addling his mind, to no avail.

Hidden behind the mask, Chris’s brown eyes briefly flash red, the same red as Wesker’s eyes in the aftermath of his infection and revival.

=

Jill Valentine would like to go on the record and say that she will always, forever, and from now on enjoy going up against any zombie or B.O.W.  that isn’t infected by some variation of Las Plagas. In fact, if that damned virus goes the way of smallpox, she’ll throw a party and toast in celebration of its extinction, even if she is the only one in attendance.

“Are you ok?” Sheva asks. Jill rubs her ankle, where a chain had ensnared her to drag her behind a motorbike steered by a Majini. She had responded by throwing the motorbike backwards, then using the chain still around her ankle to take down the other enemies, all before Delta’s snipers had time to move into position. Her showing off may have netted her more than a few questions from Sheva and Delta, but honestly, she can’t find a fuck to give about the secrecy of the whole thing. She was infected and cured by the t-virus that Nemesis carried. Whatever Wesker and TRICELL had done to her had resulted in some benefits. Her antibodies have so far kept her from going insane and killing everyone, even if she is now on a very protein-rich diet. Good. Fine. That doesn’t change her abilities beyond being able to deadlift a motorbike and using it to crush the head of the Plagas-infected person who’d tried to murder her partner. She could have done that with a gun, but the bike was easier and closer. At this point she’s amazed she, Barry, and the other survivors don’t hoard bullets like the End Times was a-comin’.

Regardless, she should probably calm down and try not to go overboard.

“I’ll be fine.”

“What you did with that bike…” Jill lets out a sigh as she looks over at Sheva and the group assembling before them. Delta team has trained and cared for Sheva since she joined the B.S.A.A.. Her trust in them is apparent, as well as their trust in her abilities on such a dangerous mission.

“If I could declassify it I would,” Jill rubs at the dust stuck on her gloves, “but the easiest thing to say is that Raccoon City left it’s scars.”

The captain of Delta team, Joshua Stone, nods in agreement. “Umbrella itself did as well. Though I’d think you’d have recalled that particular scar earlier on.”

“That’s true... I didn’t until someone reminded me.”

It took Wesker’s experiments she barely remembers, but wakes up screaming about, to show that the t-virus left her with more than just the memories of a dead and infected city. Apparently she is now strong enough to cause serious damage with a single slap, and can probably take at least double the dosage of any virus before she shows signs of mutation, though she is in no hurry to test out that particular limit. When they find Wesker, if Chris can’t kill him, she will be the one to put a bullet in his head. Or a rocket.

As she says a long, quiet prayer for Mathison and the downed flight crew, Josh shows Sheva the information on the hard drive that clued them in to Irving’s location. One of the photos catches Jill’s eye. Seeing herself in a stasis chamber, like a fly stuck in amber, is always a little weird. But the other photo, grainy and obviously stolen, makes her blood boil.

It is a photo of Chris in a similar chamber, but he was awake. He had to be, because why else would there be fabric covering his eyes and heavy headphones over his ears? Not to mention that his gagged mouth was open in a silent scream.

_Chris...Oh god._

“Captain Valentine.” The title is still weird. She doesn’t _feel_ like a Captain. Josh continues, “Other images that we found are...disturbing. They are also from TRICELL’s computers, which means--.”

“I get it,” she mutters, hating the implications. Chris was in TRICELL’s hands for no more than two weeks. He has been fully and firmly in Wesker’s for two _months_ , so the last photo of him is from a month and a half ago.

“Why would _Irving_ have these?”

“We have it on good authority that Jessica Sherawat is there protecting him.”

_Of course that bitch is._

“We’ll get Irving, and if we must, Sherawat as well. She might have information we’ll need.”

Josh nods, giving her a long and sad look. “Bring him back too, if you see him.”

“I plan to.”

=

Wesker had, a few weeks ago, decided to test himself and Chris. It was a simple test, intended to break Chris completely while also proving to himself that Lenka was wrong about the Progenitor virus-derived drug administered to Chris when he was first captured. He was certain that the Progenitor’s ties to his own enhanced Prototype virus could easily overcome whatever animal instincts that were potentially unleashed. He’d given his orders to the two P30 candidates and locked himself in the observation room, so that he could have something to focus on.

He barely managed to watch the first one violate Chris before the second joined in, both attempting to get at what was _Wesker’s._ Upon hearing Chris’s fresh wails of pain, he had ripped open the door - a reinforced door he shouldn’t have taken off on his best day - and put a stop to the experiment. Why he hadn’t taken Chris right there was still something he couldn’t quite figure out, but he was angry at himself for even considering this test. Putting Chris into stasis after the fact was for his safety and for Wesker’s own sanity. He needed to heal Chris instead of obtaining immediate gratification for himself. The time away also allowed him to look into the effects of the drugs on himself, as well as the changes Chris was undergoing. What he found made him question everything Lenka claimed to know.

What Lenka had said and what Wesker sees do not match up. His mind is clearer now, thinking things through far better than even his S.T.A.R.S. days, when he and Birkin wanted to leave Umbrella for greener pastures. He is in no danger of suffering the same pitfalls as Lenka, according to the information that Wesker ferreted out from forgotten corners within the Red Queen, hidden in files that had nothing to do with the Wesker Project.

His findings are simple enough.  He hopes to share them with Chris after all of this. He wants time with Chris to make him understand.

 _“Oh I’m not like them,_ ” Irving’s slimy voice comes over the small radio they are using to spy on the B.S.A.A.’s radio communication. Wesker listens to his attempt at buying time after being confronted by the two B.S.A.A. agents sent in to apprehend him. One is young and full of righteous fury, and the other…

“ _Drop the weapon.”_

Cool and professional as always in such situations, Jill’s voice is unmistakable. He can see a great deal from his vantage point near the mines. A lone figure approaches the building Irving is in, armed only with a gas canister and a small handgun. Unlike Jill and her new partner, the brunette is not quite dressed for the occasion, but then again, she has never been known for choosing practical outfits.

“Jill…” Chris’ voice, strained and obviously surprised, is a treat to hear. Wesker wonders if Chris will ask about her once he’s out of the drug’s thrall, but that’s for later.

“It appears so.”

The impractically dressed woman throws in the gas canister and pulls Irving out with a “Hurry!” that does nothing to disguise her voice.

“Jessica…”

“My, it seems like this will add up to be quite the fight.”

They watch Sherawat and Irving get away, Valentine and her new partner not following.

“And they left a paper trail behind. Probably when Irving shot off that bullet instead of getting the information.” Wesker shakes his head, watching Chris closely. The more agitated Chris becomes, the more likely he will have to be subdued and given a repeat dose of P30. Jill’s presence all but guarantees that he will have to do so, or at least make some sort of deal with Chris to convince him to temporarily play along.

“ _The oil field?”_ Jill’s new partner says in curiosity. _“That’s in the marshlands._ ”

“Excella allowed him to test some of the strains there,” Wesker adds for Chris’s benefit, knowing that he wants to go to Jill. “We have enough time to get there, and can do a few things to make their journey easier. Besides, Excella has been doing some of the tests without my supervision. I’d like to see how well her viruses actually do in battle.”

Chris shifts his stance, obviously upset, before he slows, as if considering. Wesker watches the two women go.  

“They’ve been tested enough, and the marshland will hold some very dangerous things. Besides, we should deal with Irving. He’s all business...and there’s nowhere near enough time for that.”

“No,” Chris says quietly, not disagreeing. His tone almost seems to carry a darker edge. “No time at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill speaks to Sheva about the dangers, and hints at her reason for wanting to keep Chris safe. Excella and her two minions prepare to get back what they need, and to continue Uroboros project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks to my beta lullite, who reminds me when stuff sounds odd or asks about plot points that will come up later. Because this is plot-heavy and sadly not as porny. ah well.

Jill Valentine is beginning to long for the days of an insentient plant monster that may or may not attack you until someone poisoned its roots. At this point she’d  _ love  _ to deal with a giant snake instead of a bat-winged, insect-bodied monster of nightmares that  _ flies _ . She’d also be grateful if the nearby village were not so densely infested with Majini who were busy driving motorcycles into them. She’s itching to use a rocket launcher on all of them, Irving included, information be damned.

Her temper threatens to boil over at having to defend against another wave of motorcycle-riding, molotov-throwing, infected dead following  _ one person’s orders _ and are keeping her from Chris. That the person giving orders is the embodiment of every slimeball that she’d ever encountered only makes her take out her frustration on every enemy within sight. 

All of her rage. Every single twin-50-caliber bit of it.

“Are you ok?”

Sheva is precious and too good for this world. Jill would also like for them to stop targeting her new partner. This one is actually good and not an idiot who doesn’t read the manual, a guy loyal to Umbrella, or Barry. She’ll apologize to Barry later, but he still owes her for pulling that gun on her at the mansion.

“I’m fine,” she replies as she snatches a lobbed grenade in mid-air and throws it back like she is pitching for the Major Leagues. The resulting explosion of a tanker truck and the five motorbikes around it does not stop her from turning the machine gun onto the burning mess and continuing the onslaught. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m good.” 

Sheva apparently hasn’t asked that in the “are you done killing everyone yet” way, but more along the lines of “do you need more bullets for your murder spree, or possibly help?” It is something that Jill appreciates in in her and Nivans. The two of them understand the dangers of this world, and are extremely good at what they do. They will make good partners to someone, and can fill the shoes of the B.S.A.A. founding members when they retired, one way or another.

The drive to the rendezvous point with Delta team lasts well into the night. Radio communication from Delta team had suddenly ceased a few hours ago, which is a bad sign. The reason for the radio silence becomes apparent as they approach their destination. There is an ominous trail of military-garbed bodies scattered along the road in what appears to be the aftermath of a fight with something big. This is confirmed as they reach the center of town. A huge, monstrous body, dead and bullet-ridden, is collapsed on top of an old jeep. The oversized parasites that sustained it are starting to disintegrate into the telltale red-brown sludge that the Plagas-infected leave behind after death. The two women pause briefly at the sight before moving to secure the location. Their driver goes to check on the few bodies and motions quickly in near panic, “Here! They’re still alive!”

It doesn’t take long to gather the survivors and call in backup. Jill looks around afterwards, disappointed by how few are still alive, but nevertheless grateful for their survival. As many of the survivors are in no shape to talk, she scouts the area to get a better idea of what took place. There are signs that a third party arrived before them and saved the remainder of Delta squad from a far worse fate. She needs confirmation that it is who she thinks...

She spots it along the wall, a bit further in and near one of the bodies of the dead. It is an old sign, one they came up with originally as a joke before, but…

_ “Oh, they don’t teach that in Delta team?” _

_ “Screw you, Chair Force. When would we need that anyway?” _

_ He gave her a smile, all cheer despite the sober tone he’d taken earlier. She knew that it is from the fact that he’d opened up and just belted out everything that had happened, and she had accepted it all… _

_ “You never know.” He sounded a bit drunk. He probably was. It had taken two shots and multiple variations of ‘are you sure’ questions before he’d finally believed that yes, she did think that he was fine, that nothing was wrong with him, that Captain Wesker would accept him too, and no, this had nothing to do with winning the office pool on who Chris would get together with (but she was at the point where she wanted to have Barry win it and just kiss Chris in the S.T.A.R.S. office, if only to shut Frost up). He’d had a few shots after that, and now looked a bit better, or at least less nervous. _

_ “Fine. We’ll figure it out before our next mission, how about that? Or after BRAVO team comes back from their little party in the woods.” _

“Chris…” 

Two stars have been hastily etched into the wall, the way that Chris would make them. They created this sign and always used it if they had the time to leave a trail. It means that Chris isn’t far under that device’s influence, or at least was able to get around his orders and leave her a sign.

“Jill?” Sheva looks uneasy. “I can’t find...Josh isn’t here.”

Apprehension creeps in as she realized the implications, the stars now feeling more like a warning than a sign. “Is anyone else missing?”

Sheva slowly shakes her head, swallowing anxiously. “What are we going to do? The guys here said he and some others went ahead, to...to the oil fields, that...”

Jill can guess the rest of what they said. “Sheva, if you want, you can stay here, take care of the rest of them and back out of this.”

“Back out? Jill...look around, we should both--.”

“Sheva, I’m not just here for the mission.” Even though her partner’s file says that she knows the dangers, the differences between the mansion in 1998 and the mission now are far greater than Jill has thought possible. She can’t risk someone on bad information. Not again.

“What are you talking about?”

“My old partner, Chris Redfield… He was in one of the photos in the files Irving left behind.  He thought I was dead, and...and before we could see each other again, before I could escape from TRICELL, he was captured by Albert Wesker, one of the men we’re chasing. Wesker was previously a high ranking official in Umbrella, and has worked with various pharmaceutical companies and terrorist organizations to create B.O.W.s. He has Chris, and unlike what he did with me… I was always going to be a pawn to hurt Chris, but...Chris and I are partners. I’m not going to let Wesker continue to hurt him. I wouldn’t have back when I trusted the man, and I for damned sure won’t let it continue now.”

Sheva looks puzzled, “The man in the file was Chris Redfield? You’re sure?”

“Yes, and we don’t have much time, if we want to save our friends.”

Resolve is crystallizing in Sheva’s eyes. “I’m coming too. It’s not just about Josh. These are my people who are dying here, and besides,” she catches up with Jill at the hovercraft, “We’re partners too.”

A radio call alerts them that backup is on the way for the wounded. “Are you absolutely sure, Sheva? There are no more orders from here on in. It’s just us.”

“I can’t turn my back and walk away. I mean it, Jill. We’re partners, to the end.” Sheva smiles almost playfully. “Now, let’s get moving.”

Jill chuckles, nodding. “Copy that.”

=

The overnight trip through the marsh is harrowing. By morning, Jill wishes for coffee over adrenaline and the drive to find their lost teammates. Sheva has stayed awake by recounting her own short tale of why she joined the B.S.A.A., a story that is starting to become far too familiar to Jill. She is not surprised that Umbrella was in Africa. Her only concern is why, or if TRICELL has uncovered anything that might hint at the Uroboros project they’ve heard whispers of.

“You said you wouldn’t have let Wesker hurt Chris when you trusted him...how would he have done that?”

Jill has so far been silent, occupied with steering their boat through the marsh. “Chris...confided certain things to me. Officially, he was thrown out of the Air Force due to insubordination. The man who tossed him out had done his best to keep Chris from getting another job. By the time he made it to Raccoon City, he was...I’ll simply say that him joining S.T.A.R.S. wasn’t supposed to happen, but Wesker  _ made  _ it happen. Chris was over the moon about it, and he…” She shakes her head, remembering, “The reports written about him in the Air Force and his performance in S.T.A.R.S. were night and day. I told Wesker that once and he’d seemed so proud, like he’d tamed a wild animal, not knowing what had really happened. Anyway, right before the mission to...right before it all ended, Chris came to speak to me. He was...upset...over a few things, and at first I thought it was because of something...else.”

_ “Please tell me you didn’t come all the way here to get free drinks, because you will be buying me new booze if that’s the case,” she joked, smiling at him as he downed the shot. It was his first one, but he looked like he hadn’t eaten, which was not a good sign. Chris did one of two things when he was worried, three if he could get away with it: not eat, smoke, or work out. The working out was starting to overtake smoking, thanks to Wesker. The Captain had apparently noticed the smoking habit after a particularly trying week and had started him on runs and several other drills. That he wasn’t eating meant it probably had to do with the Captain. _

_ “Look, Speyer told me what happened, how you freaked after you lost. He’s not about to try that again, he really isn’t. You know that the Captain would back you up if you got--.” _

_ “I’m not going to...I mean...he  _ said  _ that, yeah, but…” _

_ “No, stop. This isn’t the military, and even if there ain’t any laws for it, Wesker  _ would  _ have your back. What are you so scared about?” _

“He told me what actually happened, why he really left the Air Force, and...what he really feared.”

“What did he fear, back then?”

_ “I...I like the Captain.” He was not looking at her, like what he just said was a horrible thing. _

_ “Ok. That’s fine, and you know--” _

_ “I like you too.” _

_ “Ok.” She didn’t voice her confusion over it because she had no doubt that there could be people who like both, and because in at least one picture of herself and Chris, they look more like a couple than partners. It was weird to see, but she liked that about Chris. “We’re not having sex when--.” _

_ “No, Jill, I...I just...I like you because I  _ trust  _ you, and Captain Wesker. I’m not...I...I don’t  _ have  _ one-night stands or...or anything else like that.” He looked almost helpless, like he couldn’t  believe he’s telling her this, She slowly poured him another shot, which he drained quickly before pushing onwards, “I trusted...I trusted my last captain...and...because of that I got kicked out. I was told to trust, that I should, but they…” The shot apparently had not quite worked as Chris shook, old fears resurfacing. “I want to tell Captain Wesker, to trust him completely, but what if...what if he…” _

_ “He won’t.” She put every ounce of confidence in her voice, getting him to finally meet her eyes. She noticed the sheen of unshed tears. “I’m your partner, Chris. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” _

“I’m sorry for asking, but…”

“No, it’s alright. I never quite got it until later, after I read up on it more recently, before…Chris is...well, he’s....” She leans a bit back in her seat, trying to figure out how best to say what she knows without giving away Chris’s secrets. “Chris...trusts very few people completely, and is focused on the job. But when he does trust you, he will give you everything. Before the mansion incident in Raccoon City, before the end of S.T.A.R.S., he was ready to trust Wesker with everything - the truth about what happened between him and his Air Force commander, why he betrayed orders he shouldn’t have, why he never fought getting a general discharge when that meant losing his pay, future prospects, everything. He was going to tell Wesker all of that, and then...then he was going to tell him that he loved him.” Sheva’s eyes widens. Jill smiles wistfully, “He loves me too, in his own way. Wesker’s betrayal meant that Chris can never trust him again, and so no matter what, Chris is…” She looks down. “Anything Wesker does to him now is violating him, constantly reminding him that another superior officer he once trusted had betrayed not only him, but the whole human race.” 

Jill glances absently towards the marshes, remembering how upset Chris was after the mansion, even after seeing Barry and Rebecca safe. Jill had leaned on him to make sure he was ok before giving in to her own exhaustion. It wasn’t until after they got checked out at the hospital that Chris finally managed to feel safe enough to break down. But after that, when they’d gone to explain what happened to Chief Irons, to try to get help?

Chris had gone from the serious, yet eager-to-please young man who’d confided in her to simply...cold. Rockfort Island had transformed him further. Even his sister worried about it. When Jill finally tried to talk to him fully about it, he only told her one thing:

_ “I’m going to kill him, Jill. He betrayed us. I’m going to fucking  _ murder  _ him.” _

“I told Chris that Wesker would understand, but if he didn’t, I’d do my best to keep him safe from any retaliation, though at the time we doubted Wesker would do that. Chris would have been fine with being kept at arm’s length, even with being told that Wesker was not interested, so long as he had that person to trust. The Wesker’s betrayal changed that. Chris trusts two people, and I’m the one he trusts  _ completely _ . He trusts anyone with him to do the job, but that’s it. That’s what Wesker did to him.” 

Sheva is listening to every word with rapt attention and obviously understands everything. 

“I need to save him, because I said I would, and because he’d go through Hell to save me.”

=

_ Jill’s alive. _

Chris remembers the mansion, the fortress overlooking a cliffside, the long and final move to reach Spencer. The plan to get to Wesker through his presumed master had ended in failure. He remembers the fight, how Wesker had tossed them around like playthings. At least on Rockfort Island, he had opportunities to level the playing field. In contrast, this fight was brutally one-sided and focused on killing them both. Wesker’s inelegant, primal  _ rage _ was trained on them. Jill had paid for Chris’s cocky idea that having faced Wesker before, they could do so again and come out alive and well.

The mask is removed with practiced ease. He groans, groggy from the lingering effects of the drug that had kept him docile for Wesker’s escapades at the town and the oil refinery. He pulls belatedly at the straps that have been reapplied to keep him hobbled and trapped. Squinting in the dimmer lighting, he waits for his eyes to re-adjust. Wesker’s scrutinizing gaze pierces him, studying him as if he were a rat that continued to run through a maze over and over despite knowing that there was no reward waiting at the end. 

“You’re fighting it again. How interesting.”

“You sick bastard, what did you do to her?” He rasps, throat dry from the drug’s lingering side effects. His head is still swimming from the implication of the voice he heard, though he can’t be sure that it is Jill based on what he’s seen.

“Are you sure that was--?” 

Rage burns through him at Wesker’s attempt to play dumb. He headbutts Wesker, who decks him hard across the face in retaliation. He tips over and nearly blacks out from the impact. As he lays insensible and twitching on the ground, a claiming hand runs down his chest, along the form-fitting suit he is forced to wear during his outings. Once his eyes are able to focus again, he sees that they’re in the marshlands. His brows narrow in disgust when he spots Irving nearby, without Jessica to guard him. Wesker follows his gaze and notices Irving as well.

“You’re here!” Irving sounds overly cheerful with that slimeball accent. He walks up with a heavy briefcase, sparing Chris a disdainful glance before looking at Wesker with obvious loyalty and trust. “And in luck. Excella’s little lap dog gave me somethin’ really nice.” He pulls out the vial, showing it off the two with manic glee. Wesker seems to ignore Chris upon seeing the vial, shifting to stand and walk over towards Irving instead. Chris doesn’t know why, he…

“So they perfected it? Or are you now regulated to being a test subject as well?” Wesker’s question makes Irving bristle slightly before his pompous demeanor slides back into place. He begins to absent-mindedly twirl the vial of deadly virus in his hand like a poker chip.

“Don’t know why she left me with that bitch, but sounds like you got your own problems with chicks. What did you do, by the way, not give that Excella bitch a good enough dicking to calm her down?” Irving laughs at his own vulgar joke.

“You’re far too close to the truth for comfort, Irving. Nevertheless, the two agents who are following you will be a problem.”

“No more than you two probably are, but hey, you at least pay well and know the benefits of playing outside the box.” 

Irving sets down the briefcase and kicks Chris hard in the ribs. He cries out and curls up defensively as Irving lets out another cackle, though this one starts out almost frightened before it turns hyena-like and gleeful.

“Those guys was wrong about ya, though you could just give this one over. Got a few more of the Plagas things, make a real good show of what’s comin’, and it’ll keep those B.S.A.A. bitches off our trail.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have my own plans set for our dear Captain Redfield.” 

Chris remains curled up, not wanting to be reminded of his now-lost rank.

_ Captain Redfield and Captain Wesker. Both fell from grace at the same rank.  ** How poetic,  ** _ ** though it’s far more pathetic. **

“Suit yourself. I personally hoped that dark-haired chick would be up for a little--.”

“What are you going to do about your tails?”

The question brings Irving up short, getting him to sputter, “W-what, ah, what do you mean?”

“I mean so far, you’ve thrown the whole of your resources allotted at them, and yet they persist. Are you so incompetent, you cannot take out  _ two female agents _ ?” 

Chris shivers at the sinister tone as he catches his breath, worn out from his earlier struggles with the drug’s effects. The bruises and strain from fighting the monster in the village are also beginning to make themselves known. He has to get out of here!

** And let Irving go free? **

Jill is coming with her partner. They’ll get him.

“Oh come on. It’s just two girls that got lucky! Next time, they aren’t going to--.”

“Next time? Irving, what makes you think there should have even been a  _ second time _ , let alone a first? What made you believe that your  _ first  _ mistake would go unnoticed?”

** He wasn’t selling Uroboros for TRICELL. He was selling the Majini. If it’s just the Majini, they might also be selling a t-Abyss variant...a water-based drug to create your own army of docile, infected people. **

TRICELL can’t have something like that!

“You didn’t deliver with Uroboros. I had to make do with what I had! So what if they managed to get through it? THIS,” he waves the vial at Wesker, “is a clear shot to victory, unless my Majini mow them down, which they will.”

“One is a green agent, not accounting for the two B.S.A.A. teams that got the information we needed to keep secret for our buyers. Now you’d like to wave around Uroboros to make them even  _ more  _ likely to double-down and try to stop us?” 

Irving’s back hits the wall as he tries to placate Wesker. The pleading and stuttering are quickly replaced by strangled wheezing as Wesker effortlessly lifts him up by the neck. 

“So tell me, Irving. What  _ are  _ you going to do about this problem? What is Excella or your now-gone bodyguards going to do?”

“I-I...I’ll handle it. The...virus...”

Wesker releases him nonchalantly, pocketing Irving’s dropped vial and huffing in annoyance. He pulls out another vial that looks more red, more.... 

“I’m sure you’d like a challenge where you can at least have the potential of heading back to what’s left of the world and  _ controlling  _ everything, as I did. Use this instead. It might be called Prototype or even Progenitor, but it’s still the first and the most powerful.”

Irving goes wide-eyed at the sight. Chris is silent, even as his mind clamors for him to say something, to stop this. He can’t let Jill and her new partner face whatever this man turns into! He has to warn them! He has to...he can... _ what is that...it’s not...that’s not what he says it is, it’s.... _

“This? It’s Progenitor? Really?”

“I don’t have time for people who can’t even deal with two easy targets,” Wesker tells him when Irving hesitates in taking the vial, “and the lack of your guards says that you’re far too confident in your own abilities. However, the truth is that the last few successful test subjects have been all over the map in terms of outcomes, but it’s still far better than any other virus. It will only give you the traits you  _ deserve _ .”

Upn hearing this, Irving grabs the offered vial eagerly and takes his briefcase of gold in almost an afterthought, before rushing out with a frantic grin plastered on his face. Wesker waits for him to be gone before pulling Chris upright. The blond leans him against the wall and slowly strokes a hand down his still-aching side, as if inspecting the injury. Pressing closer, Wesker traps him against the wall and speaks in a whisper that sounds far too intimate, “I’d like you to appreciate what I had to to do make a Majini virus sample look like the Prototype.”

“W-what?”  _ I knew already. I knew. How did I know? Oh god, what’s happening to me? _

“Compliant, willing to answer whatever questions they want, and only dangerous when the mutation takes too long, but nowhere near as dangerous as the other mutations. I wasn’t about to give that fool something as dangerous as Uroboros or the Prototype, nor do I want to see what he might mutate into.” Wesker smiles magnanimously at him. “My gift to you, Chris. Jill and her new partner will have something for target practice, as well as all the information about where to find Uroboros,” one hand slowly caresses down his face, “not to mention all the information from two months ago when I first took you, when you became mine. After this, we should give them more data for each month of our time together. So Jill understands what she’s meddling with if she tries to take you back.”

The proposal has Chris thrashing against his bonds in almost incoherent panic. “No. No, please, don’t.”

Wesker raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh? Since when did you get so afraid of her knowing every detail? I’d hate to have to ask that question about you and her again, Chris.”

His struggles intensify at that. Wesker pins him hard against the wall, the metal protesting as he endeavors to get his breathing under control. “F-fucking bastard, y-you fucking bastard, d-don’t...don’t fucking ta-talk about her like…”

Wesker moves closer, his breath hot against Chris’s ear. “You’re  _ mine.  _ Everyone - Jill, the B.S.A.A.,  _ everyone _ \- is going to know that by the time this is done. I’m taking great pains to make sure that the plans put in motion don’t end up killing off the people you so like, Chris, at great risk to myself and you. So be a good Pointman, or I’ll take you on your knees in front of your precious Jill before I kill her.”

A growl escapes Chris’s throat, anger and humiliation turning to simple  _ hate.  _ He tries to land a kick on the megalomaniac, only to seize up in pain when a questing hand digs into the tender spot along his side. His distressed gasps makes the other man consider him for a long moment.

“As much as I’d enjoy watching Jill and her partner deal with Irving, perhaps we should tend to your wounds first. Your threshold for the drug is also increasing… I’ll have to fix that. In fact…” Wesker smirks, throwing Chris over a shoulder. He flops ineffectively in Wesker’s grip, unable to get any leverage in his current position. He thinks he catches a glimpse of someone further away, following them, but can’t quite tell in the darkness.

“If my hypothesis is correct, Excella will have thought up some plan based on Lenka’s notes, flawed as they are,” Wesker tells him as they depart the oil refinery and walk into the cold marsh air. Daylight is starting to break. “I’ve a feeling they used Irving and his greed as a diversion of some sort.” 

He chuckles before moving to the remaining speedboat, smaller that the yacht that Chris assumes Irving will leave in. Wesker deposits Chris onto the boat, knocking the breath out of him as he lands hard on his back. Pain shoots down his legs, reminding him of the punishing fight they had with the gigantic, hunched-over monstrosity that TRICELL named “Ndesu” before Jill got there.

Jill...Jill’s alive. She’s here. She’s alive.

_ “I won’t let him hurt you.” _

** She didn’t let Wesker hurt you,  _ but you let him hurt her _ .  _ You  _ failed, and now what will happen? How much pain will she have to deal with, will everyone else have to deal with, because you-- **

He is pulled out of his self-loathing when the rope keeping the boat docked is wrapped unexpectedly around his neck. He chokes out an aborted wheeze as Wesker secures the rope with barely enough give for him to breathe. With him trussed up, Wesker returns to the controls and easily steers the boat out of the small harbor, away from where Jill would be.

“I feel that, so long as we’re here and all heading in the same direction, I should show you something that Spencer and his little group called “marvelous.” Honestly, it’s only ever been silly to me, but I’m sure that after I explain its significance, you’ll see the appeal.”

Chris is unable to reply, too focused on getting air. He has to get away from Wesker, has to get out of here. Tied as he is with the straps restraining his limbs and the rope garrotting his neck, there is little likelihood of escaping now. Hopefully he will get another chance once they get to wherever Wesker is taking him.

“You’re also in luck that I know a shortcut to this place, which bypasses a lot of work and trouble. This means we’ll have far more time to ourselves.” 

A chill goes down his spine. 

“We’ve a lot to discuss, don’t we Chris?”

=

There are certain things Sheva knows she never wants to see, and honestly the list grows with each new assignment. Despite that, she never expected Josh  _ flirting with Jill Valentine  _ to end up on this list.

It’s not jealousy either. Josh wasn’t lying when he called Sheva the little sister of the team, and she remembers enough about her family to see Josh as an older brother. But...just…

_ EW, Josh. _

“What’s that look for?” he asks unwittingly as they leave the oil refinery in search of Irving.

“Really, Josh? Flirting  _ now _ ?”

Josh grins cheekily, despite the small cut to his face and the obvious fatigue that is beginning to seep through. “What can I say? Things are bad, and she’s a beautiful woman.”

“I have a feeling this has less to do with that and more to do with something else.” 

Jill glances at him warmly. Sheva wishes they’d stop that. There was no flirting when they first met. Why  _ now? _

Josh is quiet as they survey the area, the sound of the infected Majini loud around them. They spot Irving on a yacht. He waves a conceited goodbye at them before his boat quickly departs, leaving them to race to a speedboat at another dock. It’s not until they’re on the water that Josh tells them.

“I saw Chris. He was under the control of that blond man, Wesker. I couldn’t get to them before they left.”

“That doesn’t answer the question about the flirting!” Sheva shoots back.

Josh finally shrugs, “I might have also had some...troubles...before you two got here. I’m very grateful for your help.”

“...”

“I was!”

She narrows her eyes at him.

“WHAT?”

“It has nothing to do with how she nearly crushed a Majini’s head with her thighs then?”

Jill chuckles as Josh turns beet red and looks down at the controls, all business now. But Sheva  _ knows _ . She’s not about to let Josh off the hook with this, not when they still have a few minutes before they have to deal with the remaining craziness.

“What about the fact that she high-kicked a Majini into the wall?”

“Sheva, please…” 

Yes, her Captain and adoptive brother likes women who can put him on the ground and keep him there. She has found all of his UFC Women’s Division stuff and knows that if she ever got him a signature from any of them, he’d owe her a huge debt. 

But right now? Really?

She stops the ribbing as Josh starts the boat, just in time to escape the refinery exploding and going up in an eruption of smoke and flame, no doubt Irving’s doing. Jill looks almost sad, or at least lost in thought. Sheva glances at Josh, who shakes his head to quiet her. 

Jill finally makes eye contact again, “The yacht isn’t going to be easy to take.”

“Oh, I think between the three of us, we can take on everything.”

Taking a shortcut through shallow water and an area full of trees, they catch up with the yacht, which accelerates toward them unexpectedly, forcing Josh to swerve their boat away to avoid a collision. As they pull up alongside, Jill picks off a Majini manning a machine gun. Sheva fires a grappling hook onto the yacht, leaving Josh to pilot the speedboat. Once onboard, she and Jill easily reach the main deck and an incensed Irving. She doesn’t know how else to describe him. Like all the other shady dealers she’s seen before who’d fancied themselves powerful, Irving looks small and gutless up close. 

“Why won’t you two just die already!?”

Jill doesn’t bother to reply. Sheva wants to say something to the man who had hurt so many… He’s pathetic, but dangerous in his impotence.

“You’re makin’ me look bad!” 

She can’t quite place the odd accent, but he sounds like a weasley mobster from those American movies. 

“Who do you think got this entire operation off the ground?” he announces, apparently not aware that their radio headsets also double as audio recorders. It was Jill’s idea, and made regulation after what happened with the FBC, as well as a few other times where something like this would have came in handy after evidence was lost during sudden bioterrorism incidents. “Research like this doesn’t fund itself, ya know. Yet everyone looks down on me.”

It’s pathetic, cruel, and she wants nothing more than to put a bullet in his head. She can see Jill’s hand itching for her own gun as well. Both pull out their guns when Irving shows off the vial in his hand. “But not anymore.”

“Don’t do it!” she yells, but Irving injects himself with the contents anyway. Thinking he has won, he starts to laugh maniacally, only to cry out in pain and confusion.

“W-wait, n-no…” His eyes go bloodshot, the same as the Majini, same as…

“NO! No...Wesker promised…”

Irving’s body spasms briefly before going still, the Plaga having parasitized his central nervous system. Jill watches the process impassively. Over the radio, Josh shouts out about something strange in the water. Jill yells back, “If there’s any danger, get out of here.”

“Or I could just get--.”

“We might need something quick to escape on, and this yacht isn’t it.” 

Jill kneels down to examine what is left of Irving, now a drooling zombie. “Who gave you that vial?”

“W-Wessker…” he hisses out, the sound sending a chill up Sheva’s spine, “S-said it wass...Progenitor…”

“Why did you take it?”

“Got...another...Uroboros… Excella, Jessica...gave me some, then Wesker...gave me... stuff...thought it was the good sstuff. Better’n Excella’s.”

“Excella?” the name gets Sheva to straighten in alarm. The head of TRICELL’s Africa Division is in on this? It went that high?

The foreboding sound of something large slithering beneath the water’s surface makes them look around in search of the source, but not finding anything. 

“Where were you going? To where the Uroboros Project is?”

“The balance of the world is...changing...and...everyone is oblivious…”

Jill slaps him, causing a groan. “Answer the questions.”

“It’s gonna change...everything...there was...issues, but it’s still...on schedule.” He lets out a snicker, a leftover scrap of his personality resurfacing. “Even if...Wesker’s...fuckin’ that...agent...things are lookin’ up for us.”

Jill clenches her hands into fists. 

“Course...he ain’t so pretty...not now...but I heard,” Sheva wonders what sort of a word ‘hoid’ is, as Irving continues, “that...they got him lined up for...that Jessica bitch. She’s all...ready...to try out the drug, and Chris with it. Make them...a killin’....better, if they’re designer.”

Jill shakes in barely suppressed rage as Irving obliviously drones on, “Answers are...all in the cave. Everything in a...nice little garden...if you can...get to it.”

Before he can elaborate further, a grotesque crocodile monster, easily twice the size of the yacht, decides to lunge out of the water at this moment. It almost upends the yacht, sending Sheva and Jill scrambling for purchase to avoid being knocked off the boat. Irving, too sluggish to react, falls off the deck into the monster’s open maw and is swallowed whole.

Jill is already shooting at the monster when it breaches the water again. Sheva screams a warning at Josh to get away before joining the fray. The shotgun blasts and the 50-cals on deck keep the monster’s attention on them, until it finally lets out a dying screech and falls bonelessly back into the water with a heavy splash.

Sheva remains on alert for any other Majini that maybe onboard. Jill looks down at the lakes of blood and unidentifiable goo on deck. Josh will catch up soon, but until then…

“Jill?”

“Sheva...you understand the dangers we’re facing.”

“I do.”

“And you understand that, politics aside, you’re going to end up having some issues with advancement because of this.”

“I’m following my orders...even if I was told to withdraw, I know this place well. Besides...that village was a bit out of range for any orders we got, wasn’t it?”

“I’m going to get Chris back. And I need you to remind me of when we have to drop everything.”

“Jill…”

“I mean it. I want to save him, I do, but I also know what a massive attack by a B.O.W. can do. I know what is at stake here, and the horrors that could be unleashed that we’d have no chance of stopping. So I need you to be the one to tell me when the mission to stop Uroboros is more pressing, more urgent, than saving Chris.” 

Sheva swallows, understanding exactly how bad this is. Jill is tasking  _ her  _ with giving the orders on this, but…

“We can do both.”

“We might not--.”

“ _ We CAN do both _ ,” she repeats with more emphasis, reaching over to gently hold Jill’s arm. “No matter what. He was your partner, and I’m your partner now. I won’t let him or you be left behind, anymore then you would leave us behind. We will find a way to do this. I believe that.”

Jill looks like she can’t quite bring herself to believe it. “Ok. Let’s keep going.”

=

“The preparations are almost complete,” Excella says as she measures out the dosages, flicking the two syringes habitually to remove air bubbles. She injects the contents into a red-headed man, then a dark-haired woman. “After we get those two, we can leave.”

“Good,” Raymond Vester mutters, letting out a faint hiss of pain. Jessica Sherawat casually stretches after the injection, showing off her tight body suit, similar in style to the scuba suit that she wore on the  _ Zenobia _ . “When he’d arrived with Las Plagas, I’d had my doubts, but with Uroboros completed, it’s turned out wonderfully.”

Vester rolls down his sleeve and readjusts his simple sunglasses, matching Sherawat’s, though hers are a bit more stylish. 

“Our position at TRICELL is secured,” he remarks blandly. 

“We’ve had our eyes set on something  _ much  _ bigger. You know that. Why else would you be here but to make sure we succeed?” Sherawat reminds him.

“Why indeed,” Excella closes the syringe case and sighs genteely, “If we’re not careful, we’ll miss the chance to have our fun before everything changes. We need to get going.”

“Why so soon? I want to wait for Valentine. Let the best woman win.” 

Jessica looks far too eager about the prospect of facing Jill Valentine for Excella to trust her with the mission. Vester beats her on bringing the other woman back to task.

“Even so, you think that will endear you to your precious Redfield? We need to get everything ready. Wesker’s locked us out of the main facility, or at least his Red Queen has, but if those B.S.A.A. agents stir up enough chaos to get Wesker’s Uroboros...”

Jessica lets out a low, almost undignified whine, “I know that, Raymond. The B.S.A.A. got us t-Abyss, they’ll get us Uroboros as well.”

Excella smiles, “And after, we’ll get our men as well.” She moves to one side of the table in the lab, offering up two small vials labeled PG67A/W. “When you see Albert, do your best to hit him with this. It will clear Albert’s head for us, get him back to our side. After that, all you’ll need to do is to get Chris. I should think he’ll be tame enough by now, but will probably be Albert’s eager lapdog. You’ll have to be careful.”

“I can take him...With all that you’ve given me, we’ll have our new partners ready for the new world.”

Excella smiles at that, seeing Vester obviously debating on who he might want to take, or at least try to.  _ This Philosopher’s Stone is not for Chris though. His DNA has no merit, no value, nothing to give to the new and changed world. We will rule it, my Albert and I. You two will be footnotes in our path to greatness. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Jill is describing for Chris earlier is Demiromantic bisexual - he has to trust you before he sleeps with you, and he's fine with male or female. Him losing the trust of his former Air Force officer, as well as Wesker, is why he keeps fighting Wesker.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesker brings Chris to the laboratory in order to have a talk, and get confirmation on something he's suspected for a long while.

The research facility is a hidden fortress abandoned by Umbrella, later rebuilt by TRICELL after Wesker came to them with his vast knowledge. At the time, Excella was more than willing to pick up his indoctrinated beliefs about advancing the human race. Now, with the facility closed to her after he quietly severed ties with TRICELL, it’s astonishing that she and her people haven’t broken in yet.

Of course, they think Red Queen is running the computer systems. How nostalgic. Then again, even before his mind was clear, he’d kept most of his secrets close.

Speaking of secrets…

“How long have you bastards been playing God?” The quiet question brings him back to the present. Chris is tied to the platform railings with a new rope, being uncharacteristically placid.

“A while,” Wesker replies. A part of him wants to at least tell the truth here, considering how secretive everything has been. Even now, he can’t find information on the project he was selected for as a child. While there are hints and whispers of it, there is no concrete information about the goals of this project or what they were looking for in him and his ten ‘siblings’. Yes, he and Alex look similar, but they are not related by blood.

“The flowers we saw in the garden have an interesting...component...from which the Progenitor and Prototype viruses are derived, and from them, the t-virus. In turn, Uroboros is engineered from an evolved strain of the t-virus,” he explains as the platform descends past the numerous stasis pods packed densely into the walls. “I’ve not had much time to explore everything. By the time I got to Spencer for answers, the man was far too senile to be of much help, save for a few points. Of course, he was a foolish old man, and you would have learned less from him than I did.”

He absent-mindedly types more commands into the computer. The younger man will need to be fed soon, though considering how much resistance he shows for everything, he’ll likely have to be made more pliable with the drug beforehand. It’s not ideal, but more often than not the best way to handle Chris when he is being unnecessarily stubborn.

“Why are we here?”

“Excella and her rabble want in. I’m debating whether to let them in to fight off some of the test subjects we have. Also, I wish to speak to you about what happened to end your military career.”

He pulls up Chris’s file on the main screen, blocking the file of the test subject whose location the viewing platform is moving to, unbeknownst to Chris.

“Umbrella was thorough in their research into the members of S.T.A.R.S. team, but our main objective was finding those who would be best suited for the collection of battle data while also containing any unfortunate side effects of our research.”

Chris’s look turns murderous.

“I must admit, even I was not entirely happy with the assignment or the handling of things, and I was one of the researchers for a while.”

“You betrayed us.”

“I didn’t. I simply had other loyalties. One was to S.T.A.R.S. and what they _could_ do. One was to Umbrella and what I had been _trained_ to do. Well, until…” He removes his glasses to make eye contact. “A lot of what I’ve seen and worked on since Umbrella is starting to make me regret my overzealous nature. I’m sure if we had time to talk, if I had given in to my desire to not throw S.T.A.R.S. blindly into the test at Arklay, perhaps things would have ended differently.”

Chris glares daggers at him, eyes dark with distrust and hate, before sneering, “No. It wouldn’t have made a damned difference.”

“I’d say your morality is far too black and white, but I know better. If it was, you’d have fought your general discharge.”

Chris’s expression immediately becomes shuttered, as it always does when his time in the service is mentioned, but Wesker isn’t about to back off like he had before.

_“Burton didn’t mention you had a General Discharge,” Wesker said as he looked over the records of the young man before him. Redfield’s face, previously attentive and motivated, suddenly went blank._

Even at their first meeting, he had hated that look on Chris Redfield. Years later, when he faced Chris again while searching for Alexia, he was thrilled to see hatred in those brown eyes instead of that vacant look.

Wesker slowly stalks over to Chris and kneels down beside him. “Do you know, if I had any of the sense I have now, I would have asked the name of the man who betrayed you. Well...men.”

Chris’s face remains stoically guarded.

“It was the whole unit, wasn’t it? You saved one of them, and your superiors threw you out.”

Chris doesn’t even tell him to shut up or show any signs of having heard him. Wesker is almost tempted to slap him just to get a reaction. For there to be _nothing…_

“Was it your superior officer who put in the paperwork? The officer in charge of your squadron? Or someone else? Tell me who set you up, Chris.”

His former Pointman answers in a quiet monotone. He is sorely tempted to give Chris another dose of P30. There is at least some character left, even while under the drug’s influence. This is --

_“I disobeyed orders.”_

“I disobeyed orders.”

_“I went in and put my team at risk by being reckless.”_

“I went in and put my team at risk by being reckless.”

_“So your report says, but it also says you never fought it. I’d say that going in to save a teammate, coming out with him alive, and completing the mission is the opposite of that, isn’t it?”_

_“I--sir?”_

_The change in demeanor surprised Wesker. He didn’t realize he_ wanted _to see it. Chris had gone from blankly reciting a line to confused, as if woken up from a bad dream. The young man looked up at him with a near childish apprehension._

_“I said that the report seemed flawed. You only endangered yourself and the injured teammate, not the team. You did a commendable job on a dangerous mission. So why not fight the general discharge?”_

“You said that before,” he watches Chris closely, hoping to trigger a reaction and snap him out of that blank expression, “But I managed to get into the B.S.A.A. personnel database. The general discharge is still there, Chris. Why did they keep it there? After everything, why are you still not getting what you deserve?”

_Even Billy Cohen fought, but you’re… What happened? Tell me Chris. Make me understand, so that my revenge on them can be easier._

_So I know the one I have here is the_ right _one._

“I disobeyed orders. I went in and--”

“I have your superior officer here, in one of these pods. I have your ‘team’, the men you claim to have put in jeopardy, all around us. I called for their reassignment here as test subjects, after the first time you gave me this look.” Something flits across Chris face, too fast for even Wesker to catch. “I have yet to assign them to a test, though, and I need--”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! DON’T!” Chris finally reacts, trying to charge forward despite the restraints. A brief red glow in his eyes makes Wesker blink in surprise. He has not seen such a change in Chris before.

“Let them go, you fucking bastard! You let them go now!” Chris snarls, bucking against his restraints like a wild animal. “They didn’t...they...I...I dis...obeyed orders, I did, it’s my fault,” As quickly as it had appeared, his strength suddenly leaves him. He slumps, shaking his head, face hidden as he mutters, “It’s mine, let them go, please, let them go, I’ll...let them go...I disobeyed, I did, it’s not...it’s…”

“Not good enough,” Wesker says, resisting the urge to take Chris right this moment, or to give him the P30 to make him spill whatever he is trying to hide. Wesker has to know. “Either I get one name, or they are all equally at fault.”

Chris shakes his head back and forth listlessly, repeating those lines over and over like a sick mantra.

“I disobeyed orders. I went in and put my team at risk by being reckless.”

_“Why do you want the name of his supervising officer? Man was an asshole.”_

_“Humor me. I would like more information on what happened.”_

_Barry is silent, obviously upset._

_“You’ve seen it too. He’s a good fit for S.T.A.R.S.. He’s a perfect fit for our team, but Irons is on my ass about that discharge.” Irons wasn’t actually, because he knew to not ask questions about the S.T.A.R.S. team. He only made overtures for the sake of the RPD, but S.T.A.R.S. was Wesker’s project. Irons was paid well enough to know that._

_“You’re not getting what happened out of them.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“I only know that whatever the hell happened, Chris took the general and no one backed him up. He wasn’t always the best with orders, but in this case, it got him in trouble. If he’s not fighting it, if no one else in his unit is standing up for him, then he got what he deserved.”_

_“Still...I’d like to ask him about it.”_

“I disobeyed orders.”

In a flash, Wesker forces Chris’ head up and presses an injector against his neck. “Say that again and I’ll take you while you’re under the drug. I’ll make you _beg_ for me, then I’ll get the name anyway. Tell me, Chris. I mean it.”

Despite the threat, the younger man’s panic over saying who among his old squadron had betrayed him seems to erase any last shred of self-preservation. He tries to tear his head free, incognizant of the needle against his jugular. Wesker has no trouble keeping the tussling to a minimum, just in case Chris hurts himself.

He tries another tactic. “If the rest of your team is innocent of what happened, I won’t do anything to them. Once this is all done, I might even release them.”

“Y-you’re lying.”

“It’s possible,” he admits, “But can you take that chance, Chris? Are you still so loyal to the ones who betrayed and ruined you? At least with me, you’ve shown some hatred, some anger. When you’re not writhing on my cock, that is.” He smiles at the brown eyes flashing red again. So there _are_ changes in Chris as well. He is right. “I’ve hated the men who betrayed you ever since you first started spouting those lines in my office. I’ve always suspected there was more to the story than what was reported. Because of you,” he slowly removes the injector from Chris’ neck, leaning in to lick at the small bead of blood collecting there, “I gave up Spencer’s vision. You’ve ruined all my plans, Chris, but I’ve started to see that you were in the right.”

Chris trembles at the light nip to his neck, no doubt from the reminder of the other times Wesker had claimed and marked his body to show who Chris belonged to.

“Tell me who it was, Chris. Tell me who betrayed you and has kept you from getting what you deserve.”

“Let...let them go.”

“One of them will pay.”

“It...it was...please, I’ll do...I’ll...just...let them go.”

Wesker moves back, frowning. He releases Chris’s head, letting out a sigh of frustration, “You’re so determined to protect them, even when their betrayal was far worse than mine.”

Chris says nothing, though he looks angry and afraid.

“Tell me. I’d rather hear it from you now, but I will get the name from you.”

Chris shivers. Wesker wonders if fucking the answer out of him will be just as good. He should - it’s been at least two days. He contemplates the possibility of taking Chris, making him beg as he’s filled, using his mouth, and bringing him over the edge as many times as humanly possible until he’s too exhausted to even think. The usual equipment isn’t available here, but Wesker can make do. There are a few items in the facility that he can improvise with.

“...Captain Simon Clay.”

He pauses in his musings. The brown eyes are downcast and not even looking at him. _I was right_.

“He’s the cause?”

“....yes.”

“All of it?”

“I...I disobeyed...orders. He...he gave them.”

Wesker isn’t sure why, but something about that makes his blood boil.

“I see.”

He types in the command to release the former Captain who’d so hurt Chris, thinking back to the meeting he engineered with Clay before turning in his name to Umbrella. That Chris has managed to move forward after that man’s attempts to squash his natural instincts and abilities is amazing.  Wesker wants Clay to see the person who bested him.

As the machinery delivers the capsule containing the desired subject, he walks back to Chris and pulls back his head by a fistful of hair, grinning at the mix of anger and dread on the younger man’s face. “We need to get a few things started, so let’s make sure you don’t cause too much trouble for now.” While he loathed to take Chris while he is under the influence of P30, it is an acceptable solution if it allows them to deal with Clay with the minimum amount of fuss.

“No!” Chris growls out, struggling again as the P30 is injected into his neck. “Fucking bastard, don’t! You...no...no, fuck…”

Wesker slowly releases the brown locks, smoothing them down. Hearing the coughs from the newly released subject, he puts his sunglasses back on. He doesn’t put the mask on Chris just yet, instead continuing to stroke his hair and face as the drug takes effect. “There we go. Time to deal with the man who tried to ruin you, my dear Chris.”

=

When Chris regains awareness, he is resting on his back and looking up at the fluorescent lights on an unfamiliar ceiling. His body still hurts, but a familiar, pleasurable ache makes him groan. A hand is holding his thigh up to better hit the spot inside him. The resulting sensations make his nerve endings sing.

 _“You’re such a good little fucktoy._ ”

“Chris…”

“ _All mine. Just do what I say, I’ll make it all go away.”_

His Captain was--he...his…

 _“I can’t follow that order,_ sir -- _Wesker, you’ve gone senile!_ ”

He lets out a gasp at the continued buildup of pleasure, as his mind tried hard to re...to do...he was...he…

_“Captain Redfield!” The young man with a desert scarf around his neck smiled eagerly. “Please, whatever you--”_

_“I need you here and training, Piers. I need you ready for when I get back, ok? You’re not quite ready for a mission, not yet. But we’ll work on that when I get back.”_

“Chris, you feel so good, so tight around me, Chris -- _Redfield, god, just like that, like I tell you_ \-- Chris? -- _You’ll do as I say, won’t you slut? Whatever I say, or el--_ ”

“ _Captain, I’ll do whate--” **You should bend the little bitch over a desk like you--**_

The thought of Piers suffering in the same way he had brings back a modicum of lucidity, enough for Chris to appreciate his current position. Wesker is above him, once again pistoning into him. His arms are tied behind him and skid uncomfortably against the surface of the table with every thrust.

“Stop, stop, please, no, I don’t, I didn’t…” he babbles, fighting against the drug-induced fog, the mounting pleasure, and the bewildering swirl of memories.

**_He still has the others._ ** **Shouldn’t you put some effort into making it good so they can get free? You’re already his cumbucket. Make him at least keep you around.**

He inhales hard in preparation for a rebellious scream, but he can’t, he is **_supposed to be quiet, quiet now Redfield_ be a good little slut and stay silent. **When he’s abruptly pulled off the table to sit on Wesker’s lap, the change in angle is so disorienting that he almost slumps forward into the other man’s chest. The chair creaks precariously from holding their combined weight, but stays in one piece. Disregarding his weak attempts to get away, Wesker holds him still and slowly pushes into him, the roll of his hips easy and even, like the very first time he’d taken Chris.

“Back with us?” Wesker whispers, beginning to move faster. Chris lets out an involuntary groan of pleasure, his own hips beginning to move of their own volition. Everything is...quiet. He just needs, wants, to cum, to please. There’s nothing else to think about right now, just be fucked, just be good, it’ll be fine, it’ll...it…

_Not with him, not like this, no, not supposed to, not...not supposed...not…_

“Chris, you are doing so well,” Wesker murmurs huskily, his expression almost euphoric as he picks up the pace. Both of them are panting as Chris leans forward to ride Wesker as much as he can, feeling the buildup of pleasure. They are almost moving in sync. The fog descends once more, clouding his mind completely right before he comes. He gasps as Wesker drives into him a few more times before holding him tight, buried in him.

“We have some time left,” Wesker says after a long moment, arms still wrapped around him. “We can wait for Jill… But meanwhile, shall we go see how Excella and her two lackeys are doing? Sherawat and Vester… Two more who hurt you.” He feels Wesker’s chest rumble with a chuckle, and can’t think of anything to fight against.

Sherawat and Vester had betrayed Jill and him, working with the FBC to try to kill them. But to then turn over the t-Abyss to TRICELL so that more bio-weapons can be created…

“Yes,” he whispers, anger inundating him as thoroughly as the fog had done earlier, “Time to deal with them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing people like Clay is hard, ok? And after it I have to take a long freakin' shower.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheva and Jill catch up, Jessica and Raymond show up, and now fight-scenes!

There are certain things about Umbrella that are just...weird. Jill expects it from Umbrella at this point. An underground garden of weird flowers doesn’t even faze her anymore.

She’s far more surprised and almost afraid when they enter the underground silo she was apparently stored in before her escape, along with thousands of other kidnapped test subjects. The files and readouts with pictures of her sleeping face, her hair already blonde, make her shudder in disgust and anger.

“Jill,” Sheva pauses at the bent metal railing with torn bits of rope snagged on it, as if someone was trying to escape, “Do you think…?”

_Chris...we’re catching up._

“Maybe.”

Jill goes back to the computer. A search of “Redfield” yields no results. She lets out a long breath that she doesn’t realize she’s been holding in, before she notices that there are two cross-references. Her name is one, unsurprisingly, but she doesn’t recognize the other name. She quickly opens the file, revealing a man’s mug shot. His black hair is buzzed close to his head. Even asleep, he is handsome in a classical way and wouldn’t look out of place as a movie star or playboy. Nevertheless, something about him makes her wary. As charmed and taken aback as she is, there is a gnawing feeling that the man seems _too_ charismatic, too much like a con artist trying to gain someone’s favor.

As she further peruses the unfamiliar man’s file, her eyes widen in realization. The platform unexpectedly begins to descend, knocking her and Sheva off balance. Immediately after regaining her footing, Sheva rushes over to put a hand on Jill’s shoulder, “What is it? Jill?”

“He’s...oh god. Wesker has Chris’ old captain, the one who got him kicked out of the Air Force.”

Chris has never spoken about his captain, other than that he was thrown out of the Air Force for disobeying a direct order. Even prior to being taken into Chris’s confidence, she had seen enough battered housewives and abused kids to know that this man had done a number on Chris’s psyche even before getting him discharged from the Air Force.

Now, he is here. At the bottom of his file is the name of the person who also figured it out, who got to this man before she did.

_Request assignment to Africa via recommendation from Wesker, Albert as viable test subject._

The platform comes to a smooth halt. One of the pods, older than the others, is retrieved and brought slowly towards the platform. As the capsule opens with a hiss of steam, the fluid inside sloshes out, but the chamber is otherwise empty.

“ _Ms. Valentine,_ ” an accented female voice turns Jill’s attention towards the computer screen, behind which Excella Gionne stands in a power-stance with her hands on her hips. Next to her is Raymond Vester, who is wearing sunglasses indoors. There is an off-green tint to the image on the screen. “ _How lovely to see that you’ve recovered enough to stop by._ ”

“Excella Gionne. Where’s Chris?”

“ _I should have guessed being given orders to retreat wouldn’t work for you two.”_

“Cut the crap,” she stares down the two traitors. “You don’t want Chris around your precious Wesker anymore than I do. So what’s your big game, Gionne?”

The woman on the line scoffs, losing some of her control and poise, “ _As if I need to answer to the likes of_ you _.”_

“True. And we don’t have to answer to you either.” Jill moves to end the video transmission, but at the last moment, Gionne grounds out, “ _Wait.”_

“No.”

“ _We’re not able to get into the facility you’re in,”_ Vester pushes past an affronted Gionne, “ _and Uroboros is there._ ”

“So what? The last time you got into somewhere, you took what you needed and ran.”

“ _I also got your partner from that mission out. Or does that not count for something?_ ” He waits for a response, but she simply moves her hand closer to the keyboard. “ _Wesker and Chris are in there, and we have a way to make Wesker give up his fixation on Chris. It’s either trust us or take your chances going up against Wesker alone. Think it over, Jill. We’d hate for you to give up your life on this vigilante mission--_ ”

Jill cuts the feed before Vester can say anything more, angry at the possibility of needing the traitor’s help..

“Who was that?”

“Raymond Vester. He betrayed us too, but he’s got a point.” Vester did save Parker, but she has a feeling that something new is going on, something dangerous. “We’re between a rock and a hard place.”

“TRICELL is the one doing the experiments. Wesker has cut ties with them, so...we shouldn’t trust them either.”

Jill nods as they head through a doorway towards an elevator, “True. But Wesker won’t be an easy fight. He’s fast, strong, smart. He was already dangerous as a human, now even more so with the Prototype virus. How Chris survived the last few encounters…” She swallows down her anger at the thought of what is happening to her partner. “Whatever is in here, we can’t let them get it.”

=

“You shouldn’t have interrupted me,” Excella says crossedly to Vester after the signal cuts off, leaving them to rely on the cameras Sherawat hacked into to show the two B.S.A.A. agents’ whereabouts in the laboratory.

“You shouldn’t have provoked her,” Vester points out, “Valentine is critical in our plan.”

“‘Critical’ in the sense that she’ll be in critical condition after we get you Wesker and I get my Chris,” Sherawat gloats as she saunters in. “I’ve checked the cameras - Wesker and Chris are in, but as far as I can tell, they aren’t moving from the observation room. They put on a show - Wesker got my poor lovely to _beg_.”

Jessica lets out a wanton sigh that sounds anything but upset, her hand moving down her side from her breast suggestively. Excella’s stomach roils in outrage and disgust at the reminder of what Albert has been doing with Redfield for the past two months.

“You really want Wesker’s sloppy seconds? Or however many it is by now?” Vester grouses. Sherawat opens her mouth for a comeback that will undoubtedly offend typical sensibilities. Not wanting to be sidetracked by the impending bickering, Excella waves her hand magisterially to redirect the two’s attention.

“We’ve more important things to do than argue. We need to get into that facility and get what is ours, or at least get what Albert has on the Uroboros Project. I will _not_ have our plans pushed back by any of this! We’ve worked too hard to allow that to happen.”

Sherawat chimes in inopportunely, “A new world, ready to be repopulated by only the best.”

“ _Is that what she told you?”_ a nonchalant voice comes from the computer screen, which flickers to a smug Albert Wesker and a masked Chris Redfield behind him, once more covered and hidden. “ _Oh, I apologize. Did you believe this trick is one-way?”_

“Albert…” Excella breaths, trying to catch his eye, but the yellow-tinted sunglasses make it hard to see where he is looking. “Albert, please, let us in. Let us complete our vision.”

“ _‘Our’ vision?_ ” he drawls, as if pondering the possibility. “ _It was_ a _vision that I told you some details of, so in the barest sense of the term, it’s ours. As for allowing you in… Do you think I’d let in two people with that little concoction you created and tried to put in me? Did you get a chance to name it yet, or is it still just by the designation you gave it?_ ” He smiles as she straightens uncomfortably, caught. “ _I know all about that. Lenka was very...talkative when I wasn’t playing with Chris. Contrary to whatever he told you about the effect of the drug we gave Chris, I can spend time away from my Pointman and still think clearly._ ”

“If that was true, you would not have run!” she almost shouts into the screen, her emotions running high. Between that bitch Jill Valentine, the setbacks with Uroboros, and Albert calling her after he’d fucked Chris Redfield into submission… He probably still stinks of sex with that...that….

“Albert...please see sense,” she tries to plead with him. “This has always been our vision. Being able to change the future of humanity for the better, to create a world where only the genetically superior can survive, and all others--.”

“ _I’m sure your speech will be lovely, Excella, but I’ve just finished dealing with someone trying to convince me of something. I’d rather not hear another speech so soon._ ” Albert looks bored, but also thoughtful, before finally smiling at her. “ _I’ll offer a compromise. I’m about to test out how Uroboros fares against the two lovely B.S.A.A. agents who are searching through the labs. If you’d like to see how strong you little soldiers are, send them in. I’ll even allow a passcode, one time, for them both. They can see if their abilities are enough to defeat Uroboros, and perhaps even the B.S.A.A.. Or they can get the information and the Uroboros. Whatever you’d like. But you better hurry. I might lose interest._ ” He eyes Chris possessively, a self-satisfied look on his face, while Excella seethes impotently. “ _Good luck._ ”

Cursing in Italian, she smashes her palm into the keyboard as the screen goes blank. It’s undignified, not at all the way she should appear, but right now she doesn’t care. Her Albert is with that man, _fucking_ that man, and not here with her. He is in the lab, testing _their_ Uroboros and how it fares in battle with that man _,_ not with her.

_Chris Redfield...I will make sure you die. I won’t even let you mutate, I’ll simply cave in your skull and leave you for the crows to feed on!_

“Excella,” Sherawat’s voice cuts through her anger. She and Vester are both looking at what is obviously the one-time entry code on their PDAs. “Your orders?”

“If you can deal with the B.S.A.A. agents, do so, but our main priority is getting Uroboros. Let the B.S.A.A. deal with the other concerns for now, but if you can give Albert the PG67 serum, do that.”

“What about Redfield?”

“If PG67 doesn’t work on Albert, we’ll try it on Redfield. But for now, leave him alone. When this is over, you can have him, Jessica. Until then, focus on getting Uroboros and Albert.”

Sherawat lets out a long sigh, rubbing her neck. “Waiting this long only makes me wetter for Chris...it’ll make when I finally get him all the best.”

Excella does not deign to reply. Vester scrunches his nose, “Fine, just...tone down the details a little. We’ve got to get going.”

“Of course, Raymond.”

=

Ending the transmission, Wesker moves to the viewing window to check on the progress that Clay is making. Uroboros is happily settling in after its unconventional introduction. Earlier, Wesker had gleefully shoved the ball of black tendrils up the low-life’s ass, just as Chris had done with Lenka.

He looks back at Chris, who is still showing no signs of defiance. He should be worried, or at least test what would rile Chris up again, but given what had happened after they released Clay…

_Clay fell shakily to his hands and knees, coughing up the liquid he’d swallowed while he was stored in stasis. Wesker released a docile Chris from one of the ropes so that he could use it on the half-naked man before him. The recently injected P30 had by now reached peak serum concentration and Chris was under its full effect. His attempts to resist were barely perceptible. It was a testament to Clay’s lack of character that the first thing he said upon awakening was to blame someone else for his current condition._

_“You…” there was a flicker of recognition when his eyes fell on Wesker, “you did this.”_

_Wesker twisted the rope around Clay’s neck, choking him into silence. Chris looked on impassively, kept in check by the drug._

_“Congratulations, Mr. Clay. You’ve been chosen for a very special test.”_

_“W-wait...p-please...where…”_

_Clay’s struggles for breath were satisfying, but Wesker was annoyed that Clay didn’t seem to remember the full extent of their conversation. Shortly after Chris joined S.T.A.R.S., Wesker had met with Clay and his commanding officer about getting rid of the general discharge. Clay had tried his best to convince Wesker that keeping Chris around was a bad idea, which resulted in his speedy “reassignment” to Africa as a test subject. Wesker barely recalled the fussy General who’d signed off on the order, or the other officers who’d agreed with Clay that Chris was insubordinate and a liability to his team. When Jill later said that Chris’s performance reports were like night and day, Wesker was proud of his decision. If he could prove those men wrong, he could prove Umbrella wrong, and he had._

_“You gave such a speech about how bad an idea it was to have Chris Redfield on my team, how all he’d do is drag his feet and cause trouble. Yet you neglected to mention that all of that was you covering for your own bad decisions on a mission, and your superiors doing the same.”_

_Clay grimaced. “You...you wanted that slut Redfield on your team. How’d that work out for you? Did he run off at the first sign of trouble, or did he just not listen and get someone killed?”_

_They were interrupted by the squeal of warping metal. Chris had become agitated and was pulling against the railing he was tied to. A guttural growl emanated from his throat. His red-tinged eyes were locked onto them both._

Wesker moves back to Chris, slowly taking off the mask to reveal the downcast eyes. They’re brown, at least for now. Something is slowly changing in Chris, which is exciting. He wants to test Chris further, to see more.

He instead takes out a food ration - a far cry from some of the food he served Chris during their months together, but something that will keep him going for now. He taps Chris’s chin. Familiar with the routine, Chris opens his mouth obediently. Wesker feeds him the ration in small pieces, his own mind wandering. Earlier, he was taking Chris on that table when whatever emotional turmoil P30 was repressing suddenly became unleashed. There had been a brief, useless struggle until Wesker shifted their position, after which Chris inexplicably calmed enough to fall back under the drug’s influence and participated more enthusiastically than ever before. It also made Wesker think hard about what he learned from Clay, who had manipulated Chris into a relationship, only to throw him aside when he got when he wanted.

 _“You’re his new_ Captain, _aren’t you?”_

_Clay’s voice was grating. If there wasn’t the chance that he’d accidentally kill Clay instead of merely silencing him, Wesker would have strung the rope tighter around his neck until his face was blue._

_“I’m sure you have far more important things to worry about, Mister Clay.”_

_“MAJOR.”  
“Do you really think your rank means anything here?” _

_Wesker could see Clay trying to figure out a new tactic. He dragged Clay into the main testing chamber, where Uroboros awaited. Chris followed silently, his eyes downcast and his mind obviously elsewhere. Wesker was fine with it for now, but looked forward to having him rebellious and resisting again._

_“Don’t act like you aren’t his new_ Captain _. Redfield likes to call out to his superiors while he’s...working through...any disciplinary actions. If it means protecting his precious team, he’ll take any punishment you give him. Hell, he’ll even pretend to fight it.” Wesker paused, pulling Clay up to face him as the other man continued his diatribe, “Did he tell you that you were his first? What song and dance did he come up with to get you so worked up over that general discharge_ he _earned?”_

_The man was either stupid or unaware that it’s been at least ten years since he had any sort of control over Chris’s life._

_“Let me guess...you needed a way to ensure that he wouldn’t fight one of the orders you gave, and took photos of your ‘disciplinary actions’ at least once.”_

_“He’d been asking for it since he got into my squadron. You don’t think I didn’t get it whenever I needed some release?”_

_Wesker slammed Clay back into the chair, knocking the wind out of him. “I think you got it once, and like to think you could have it again. That’s why you tried to get him fired whenever you heard from a prospective employer. I’m more amazed you tried it with_ me _, though.”_

_Clay glared at Chris, who stood at a distance per Wesker’s orders. The younger man shifted on his feet, as if itching to approach the two, but ultimately remained obedient._

_“You wanted to ruin him, and you didn’t. If I had known the full extent of what you did, I would have had you in this position years ago. But now is just as good.”_

_Clay’s veneer of bravado started to crack as he realized the extent of the danger he was in. “What did he tell you? He knows what would happen if he says anything. The slut wanted--.”_

_Letting out an exasperated sigh, Wesker hit Clay hard enough to nearly break his neck. The low-life was unintentionally knocked senseless, but at least Wesker could now prepare him for the next stage in peace and quiet._

_“Chris, was he blackmailing you?”_

_There was no reply. Chris remained where he was, eyes on the ground. Even from a distance, Wesker could see him trembling from head to toe like a thrummed bow string. He gently lifted Chris’s chin to see the conflict in those lovely brown eyes. It appeared that a part of Chris, forever the self-castigating altruist, still wanted to save Clay from getting his comeuppance._

_“I’ve got some more questions for him. I don’t need you to speak. In fact...”_

_He ripped a leather strap off one of the many gurneys in the facility. It’s far less elegant than what he used on Chris in the past, but it should work._

_“Open. I don’t need to be distracted at this moment, Chris.”_

“It won’t be long now,” he runs a hand along Chris’s face. He loves touching Chris, though to be honest, seeing him try to fight the pleasure that his body demands is always far more fun. He’d taken the gag out before they’d had sex, but only because Chris behaved so well when Wesker was dealing with Clay.

The former Air Force Major thought he was better than Chris, when it’d taken P30 to get Chris to obey. A little pain was enough to break Clay and make him spill everything that had happened, everything he did to Chris… Wesker should have dug a little deeper when they were in S.T.A.R.S., and dealt with this human waste long ago. The commanding officer who signed off on the discharge paperwork will be next, and his punishment will be far more painful.

_“He didn’t have to see what I had. He took one look at Chris and knew he was worthless.”_

“C-clay…” Chris is stuttering his words, which usually only happens when his body is overwhelmed by pleasure. It appears that the encounter with Clay has been more traumatic than expected. Throwing away the empty food wrapper, Wesker takes out a bottle and tilts Chris’s chin up to feed him the water.

“He won’t ever touch you again. You’re mine, Chris. Your old Air Force team will pay for tossing you aside, even if I was the one fortuitous enough to get you.”

“N-no…” Chris chokes out, some of the water dribbling down the side of his mouth.

“No?” Wesker wipes off the water. He’s beginning to wonder how badly Chris had been hurt to make him react so negatively to assurances that those who had done this to him would be punished.

“T-they…he...said…”

“They believed him over you.”

“E-ev-ery-one...did. M-my f-fault.”

_Oh, Chris, my dear Pointman. You heard what Clay said, and you still think it’s your fault?_

“Chris, after this, I’m going to find my son and Birkin’s daughter. I want to make sure they’re safe, but more importantly, I’d like to see them together. Help me in this, and I’ll let your old team free. I may even spare the commander who signed off on Clay’s paperwork that got you into such a mess.”

Chris is silent for a long moment, long enough for Wesker to start to fasten the mask back over his face before he says, “L-liar. L-like...Clay.”

“I’m nothing like him,” Wesker hisses angrily, putting the mask on a bit more forcefully than usual before letting out a breath to calm himself. Having Chris participate in their last round of fucking was divine, so perhaps he’ll give him this, just this once. “But I did lie. The commander who also hurt you is not going to survive. However, your team will...for now. Having a superior officer like Clay, even when he’s not at his worst, is probably punishment enough.”

=

The slow advance through the lab turns up empty containers that appear to be for storing missiles. Jill can’t say for sure what they’re going to be used for, but she has an idea - probably distribution of the Uroboros virus or whatever they’re creating. They still need more data to know how to handle the threat. Jill hates how long it’s taking, but she also knows they have to gather as much data as possible, especially if Wesker decides to switch back to Excella’s side.

They enter a quiet, dimly-lit room of the lab, reminding Jill too much of the room where the Tyrant was kept at the Arklay mansion. She can all but feel the tension rising from Sheva at the tight corridor and excessive amounts of combustible materials in the otherwise sterile area.

“ _What a pleasant surprise to see the B.S.A.A. here._ ”

She freezes momentarily at the voice of Albert Wesker projecting over the speakers. She spots Chris’s former Air Force captain, the test subject whose file she read earlier, slumped over in a chair a short distance away, his skin covered in black patches of eschar. Wesker is in an observation room above them, out of reach for now. Behind him, a masked man stands, covered by a hooded cloak. His face is hidden, but she can guess who he is.

“Let Chris go, you bastard!”

“ _You’re very single-minded for one in such danger._ ”  

She briefly debates whether she should try to gun Wesker down through the glass, but decides against it. It’s likely that the glass is bulletproof, and just as likely that she’ll only hurt Chris or Sheva instead.

“ _May I introduce you to former Captain...sorry,_ Major... _Clay of the US Air Force? I sent him here for testing long ago, but we did have an...illuminating...conversation before you got here. Do you know his history with Chris?”_

“Better than you do,” she growls. Wesker looks at her, curiosity piqued.

“ _Really? For better or worse, then, you’ll have him to thank for this test of Uroboros. I’m sure Excella can explain it far more...elegantly...but flowery words would go to waste here. After all, showing is far more interesting than telling._ ”

Clay rises slowly out of the chair. Snake-like tendrils ripple under his skin, eventually forcing their way out in a burst of half-congealed blood and ruptured muscle. The noises he is making are almost inhuman. Jill and Sheva keep their guns trained on him.

“So Uroboros is a new bioweapon you’re going to sell to terrorists,” Sheva says, her voice steady despite what they are witnessing. Jill is proud of her for that, though she doubts that Wesker intends to sell Uroboros.

“ _Excella has no intention of selling it, and honestly, it’s been an interesting puzzle to work on, but now it’s simply something that will cause more problems than it will fix. It was meant to rejuvenate the human race, to ensure a new breed of humanity through forced evolution…”_

The tendrils retreat back into Clay’s body as he looks up with the same red eyes as Wesker, the slit pupils dilating.

“ _However, my plans changed once I recognized that extreme bottle necks never work out well for the long-term development of a species. I suppose we’ll use it instead to punish those who consider themselves ‘worthy’, won’t we?”_

Clay screeches as his body begins to seize again, the tendrils squirming under his skin while he chokes out unsettling sounds.

“ _Well, I suspected as much - he isn’t worthy of anything at all, even the taste of power he got. I leave the execution of this low-life to you, Valentine. I’ve done my part to ruin him_.”

“WAIT! WESKER! CHRIS!” she yells as Wesker and the other man - who has to be Chris - leave.

Clay’s body is by now completely devoured by Uroboros, the writhing mass of black tendrils advancing threateningly towards the B.S.A.A. agents in search of additional organic material. Jill quickly takes in her surroundings. “Sheva, the gas canisters. Fire, like in the foundry.”

“Right,” Sheva nods and runs off to shoot at a canister next to the monster, causing an explosion that engulfs it in flames.

Jill lets loose with her abilities. The t-antibodies and t-virus in her, further tinkered with by Wesker, have made her faster and stronger. Using that to her advantage, she keeps the monster’s attention on her as Sheva blows up one gas canister after the other. They eventually stumble upon the flamethrower that the researchers previously used to dispose of unsuccessful Uroboros mergers.

_Lucky us._

The flamethrower makes fairly quick work of the abomination, but they’ve lost valuable time to go after Wesker. Now that she knows Chris is alive, being held somehow under Wesker’s thrall…

“Jill…”

Jill keeps her breathing shallow, hating the smell of burnt flesh and smoke.

“Let’s get going.”

“Ok, but what did Wesker mean by that speech earlier?”

“Wesker was raised by eugenics fanatics, holdovers who believed in creating a perfect race. He’s never quite swallowed complete transformations like that, though, not of _everyone_.”

_What did Spencer tell you, and what did Chris manage to stop you from doing?_

“Then…”

“He’s a terrorist, Sheva. He might not sell this to them, but he’s the one who got Plagas here from Spain. We can’t allow him to continue.”

Sheva’s resolve hardens at these words, nodding solemnly. They continue their search of the lab.

=

It’s just as they get back to the exit, through more of the old buried temple in the area, that Wesker hears the voices of Excella’s two lackeys. He looks at them dismissively, sensing what they’ve been infected with.

“We didn’t expect to find you so easily,” Jessica Sherawat says. Her brown hair flows freely to frame her face, the rest pulled back to keep interference at a minimum. She’s barely paying attention to him, too busy ogling Chris. Vester, who is dressed more like an office worker than a field operative, looks at him brazenly. He can guess what Vester is thinking, having seen enough men who have decided power is a certain thing and wished to test their abilities.

“Didn’t you? I said I’d be here, but I assume your orders have been carried out.” Their miffed expressions, despite being partially obscured by their sunglasses, make a corner of his mouth tip up in amusement. “I know Excella far too well, and as theatrical as she may be, she knows what she needs to do.”

“Then you know that she also needs you back,” Vester says. “Drop the useless baggage, or better yet, hand it over to Jessica. She’s been wanting a new toy.”

Sherawat makes a sound that is far too sexualized for her to not be already horny and wet.

Wesker sighs impatiently, glancing at his watch, “Are you two done? I doubt you have what it takes to test your abilities against me, and honestly I’m not in the mood to cater to your whims.”

“But the odds are fair - two on two.” Vester is apparently convinced that the fight will end in his favor.

“And you’re both what we want,” Sherawat adds. Jill and her partner unexpectedly burst onto the scene from a side door. Jill’s gun is immediately trained on the group, her voice authoritative as she yells, “FREEZE!”

“The odds seem to have changed,” Wesker drawls as Sherawat and Jill busy themselves with a staring match. Jill’s partner wisely stays silent, not intending to get in the middle of the two’s posturing. “I know you think you can take her, but trust me, underestimating any of the S.T.A.R.S. will get you in trouble.”

Sherawat snickers, “I took her down before. I’ll do it again.”

“You don’t have the luxury of a boat and distance,” Jill shoots back.

Sherawat charges at Jill, her speed upgraded by the virus. Following her lead, Vester throws off his glasses dramatically and tries to attack Wesker. He isn’t as fast as Jessica, but he seems more intent on landing a good hit than catching anyone off guard.

Vester is unprepared for how fast and strong _Chris_ is. The power behind his punch sends the redhead staggering back as Wesker laughs. Jessica is in a similar quandary. Her attempt to go one-on-one with the now-powerful Jill ends with her retreat back to Vester’s side.

“It’s far from a fair fight, you two,” Wesker observes bemusedly.

Sheva levels her gun at Jessica to ward her off. Jill’s crosshairs predictably land on Wesker, only for Chris to move in between them, ruining her shot.

“Despite what Excella might have told you, that little cocktail of hers has a timer on it. Might want to consider how you’re feeling before trying to take on the old team.” He chuckles before calling over to Jill, “All we need is Barry here to put a gun to your head.”

“You’re not getting out of this alive, Wesker.” Jill’s tone enough to make him realize how serious she is. She has always been serious, of course, but he’d gone up against Chris for so long that he is beginning to forget how dangerous Jill can be. If it were she and Chris coming, he would have been worried, even after their defeat at the Spencer mansion. He was worried then, which was why he spent so much energy to divide them and tried to end things as quickly as possible.

“I’ve heard that before,” he taunts, stroke a hand down Chris’s back. It’s ramrod straight, and he’s obviously still under the thrall of the drug. It appears that his anger at the two double crossers before him outweighs his need to see his former partner.

_And soon, all he’ll need is me._

Vester glowers at him impotently, “Seven minutes.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s a good playtime for you, but we’ve got no time to spare for either of you. Let’s go.”

Chris follows, all the while keeping an eye on the two. Wesker briefly hears Sherawat moving in for another attack. He catches her punch and casts her aside without breaking his stride. Vester charges at Chris. Jill, ever the faithful partner, goes after them, Sheva following suit. Wesker stops one of Vester’s powered-up blows, then throws the redhead and Sheva back when they both try to attack him. He strolls halfway up the stairs to where Chris is. The mask has cracked and fallen off at some point during the skirmish, revealing his face. Upon seeing her former partner at last, Jill appears to have been shocked into stillness. Wesker gives Chris an indulgent smile, cupping his cheek.

“He’s mine,” he announces matter-of-factly as the others take in _his_ Chris, “and I’m not going to lose him to anyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm working on writing fight scenes better, ok?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the fight, Sheva finds something interesting, and Wesker decides to take care of Chris while also getting ready to take down Tricell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice there is a part you swear was in here missing...I moved it. It'll come up later, promise. My wonderful beta lullite can only work on so much and I write fast, so all the chapters are updated now!

Sheva has heard about Chris Redfield long before he was declared MIA. According to his B.S.A.A. file, he is a hero who helped bring about Umbrella’s demise, then continued to fight tirelessly against the use and creation of B.O.W.s. He disappeared two months ago on a mission in South Africa, and so did the small four-man team sent to look for him. The disappearances and the subsequent reveal of a corrupt branch of the B.S.A.A. led to the Kijuju outbreak falling under the radar until it was too late.

The pictures she had seen of Chris showed a tall, burly man whose skin was a healthy bronze hue, likely from spending a great deal of time outdoors. His short brown hair was un-styled and a few unruly tufts stuck up stubbornly. She has heard second- or third-hand that despite his serious look and deadly focus when on a mission, he is quiet, compassionate, and willing to help out anyone in need.

Jill Valentine herself said that if you earned his loyalty, it was yours forever. Thinking of the photos she’d seen, Sheva believes it.

The man before her _IS_ Chris Redfield, she knows that. His hair is a bit longer but still has the same unruly look. His skin remains tanned, but has lost its healthy sheen and looks almost sallow. There are bags under his eyes, giving him a worn and haggard appearance. He has lost a significant amount of bulk, his build now leaner. Bruises blossom along his face, along with what appears to be a bite mark that extends up the side of his neck, some parts of it scarred over. He is wearing a form-fitting outfit similar to Jill’s, but along his arms and legs are sturdy-looking leather straps that probably aren’t just there for aesthetics.

They’ve known that Chris Redfield is under the mask, but Sheva doubts anyone could have anticipated that his eyes would be red instead their usual brown. Chris has barely acknowledged Wesker’s casual touch from earlier, instead focused on the four people in front of him.

Wesker smirks at Sherawat and Jill in particular, “Now that we’ve had our fun, I’ve more important things to do.” He turns to leave.

Sherawat struggles back to her feet, something falling from her hand.

“It’s us or the mission. Neither of you can afford to waste time on both,” Wesker gives Sheva an almost fond glance, “I’d time the elevator, my dear. Unless you want to try to keep fighting him once he gears up for another swing.”

Chris’s jaw shifts, as if on the verge of saying something, but instead he and Wesker head up the rest of the stairs to the elevator. Sheva rushes up the other set of stairs in a bid to get to one of them, only to be nearly hit by Raymond Vester. His swing takes out a chunk of the pillar near her head. Jill, who is locked in battle with Sherawat to stop her from following Chris, calls to her in concern. The elevator doors close on Chris and Wesker just before she makes it there.

Time the elevator, time the elevator...get Jill, time the elevator…

They are closing in on Wesker and Excella. Sheva can manage a game of dodge with Vester.

Turning back to Vester, she tries her best to misdirect his powerful swings while sneaking in a few shots in between, but he’s too fast for her. Jill is doing better, able to nearly keep up with Sherawat as they fight their way up the stairs. Sherawat lets out a cackle as they near the elevator,

“He’s not yours anymore, Jill. Don’t be a sore loser and just _die_ already.”

“You first,” Jill growls, kicking Sherawat into Vester. The collision interrupts his attack on Sheva, who pulls back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Jill. The two groups are situated on either side of the elevator at the top of the stairs. The elevator is descending to their floor again. Sheva wants badly to get on the elevator to catch up to Wesker and Chris, but once the doors open, there would be no way to prevent Sherawat and Vester from getting in as well. The rational part of her knows that she is unlikely to survive being trapped in a small, enclosed space with them. Jill is likely thinking the same thing. Even with her superhuman abilities, she isn’t quite a match for Excella’s newly enhanced lackeys. Vester and Sherawat realize this as well, judging by the latter’s growing grin. As the elevator doors open with a ding, Vester straightens his suit and strolls in.

“Too bad,” Sherawat says, “we’ll have to have the fireworks without you, Jill.”

Jill curses as the elevator doors close. They quickly head downstairs to survey the room one more time. Spotting the syringe Sherawat dropped earlier, Sheva pockets it. She hopes there’s another way out - she doubts that it will be safe to take the same elevator up, now that Sherawat and Vester have gone ahead of them.

“Damnit...what did that bastard do to Chris?”

“If we go up the same way as those two, it’ll be dangerous,” she says,  looking around and spotting the other doorway. “Jill!”

The two carefully look past the door, which opens to a deserted hallway. Sprinting down the hallway, they fail to notice the elevator suddenly descending, as if in freefall.

“If we hurry, we might--”

An explosion rocks the facility, drowning out all sound and covering them in rocks and debris.

=

Chris groans as he pushes back against the weight on top of him. Jill was calling to him, yelling for him. Jill was there, she’d…

 _Jill looked at him in disbelief, her eyes angry, sad, upset, but his focus was on the two traitors. **How dare that**_ **thing** \-- Jessica, her name’s Jessica Sherawat, she betrayed Jill and him. She’s...what’s wrong with her? What did Excella do to her? -- **attack his Captain** \-- _“I’m your Captain,” Clay said, pushing him down, “Say it, Redfield.” -- “Captain Wesker.” “If you’d like, I can go by Wesker, Chris. No need for such formalities.” -- “Captain Redfield!” “You can just call me Chris, Piers. We’re not a military organization.” --_ **Aren’t you just like _your_ real Captain, betrayal and all. Jill’d only look at you like that because something is wrong. You know it. How did you know something is up with Sherawat? How did you know that they’re sick?**

“If you’re not quiet, they’ll find us.”

Ignoring the warning, Chris bucks wildly against Wesker, who shoves a piece of leather between his teeth, then covers his mouth firmly with a gloved hand to muffle his yells and grunts. The leather straps on his arms and legs have already been tied together, making it difficult to get any leverage. Wesker is straddling his hips, pinning his arms above his head with one hand. His breath hitches in terror when the blonde leans down, as if to kiss him as a prelude to fucking him.

Jessica’s voice makes him freeze instinctively in the midst of his panicked struggling. Something about her and Vester _screams_ wrongness, _sick, vile, changing_ , in a way that even the Majini don’t. A part of him hates that he can tell simply by how they look and sound. All the same, he can’t quite fathom _what_ it is that makes them unlike Wesker or the other B.O.W.s.

He and Wesker are currently too close to Excella’s ship for comfort, hiding in one of the many buildings nearby that are used to house the Majini and other B.O.W.s. Chris has not seen another normal living person since Jill and her partner. He can only hope to get away and maybe find his way back to them. They have to be safe. If he manages to escape before Wesker gives him that mind control drug again, then maybe he can--

The ground under them shudders in a powerful explosion. The smell of thick smoke reaches his nostrils. He goes slack as he begins to piece together what must have happened and the terrible implications. He vaguely remembers hearing something shortly before the explosion, like the scrape of a heavy load being pushed and the screeching of failing brakes. Someone must have blown up the underground facility, but if Jessica is up here but not Jill, then... No, no, she can’t be. No. No, she’s not...Jill…

He renews his frantic attempts to throw Wesker off him, but to no avail. The hands on his wrists and mouth tighten in punishment, the pressure becoming painful.

“Sherawat,” Excella Gionne’s voice is harsh and all business. Her is near where he and Wesker are hidden. Through the dirty window, he catches a glimpse of her walking towards the elevator, where Vester and Jessica are. Her dark hair is in a severe bun and her posture is stiff, as her heels click on the corrugated iron. The sound of a hard slap echoes through the strangely silent docking area.

“What were you thinking?”

“It got the job done, one Irving had failed at,” Vester says.

“Then I expect you to come up with their bodies as proof of their deaths. I won’t have you two messing up like that idiot Irving. I expect better from the ones I gifted the Progenitor virus to. You two have so far managed to prove themselves worthy of my gift. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

Excella struts briskly back in the direction of the docks, unaware of where Chris and Wesker are hiding.

“I’ll take care of the bodies. You go and get your shot,” says Vester.

“I’m fine. We have enough time before the fireworks.” There is the sound of a deep inhale. “This smoke is making it hard for me to sniff out my Chris.”

“Then get on the ship. You think the old man will give up the chance of getting what Excella has on there, or playing hero for his fucktoy? If you’re lucky, you might get to join in.”

Jessica makes an exaggerated sound of disgust, her footsteps receding in the same direction as Excella’s.

Jill’s alive. Raccoon City didn’t kill her, this won’t. She’s alive. She has to be.

_You can’t be dead, Jill. Please…_

“Sounded like quite the explosion. I do hope Excella saved some of those flowers, or her two little experiments will fail.”

_Fail...is that what’s wrong with them? Whatever Excella gave them?_

“No one but Jessica and the others in Excella’s pay will come for you now, Chris.”

He keeps his breathing quiet and does his best to pull himself together. Wesker’s hand eventually moves from his mouth. He tries to plot an escape so that he can get onto Excella’s ship to sabotage it, or do something to stop her plans. Jessica is still nearby. She can’t find him like this. **_She killed Jill. I’m going to_ kill that damned bitch for what she’s done.**

“You look so lovely when you’re angry,” Wesker says, triggering another bout of struggling until Chris eventually goes limp from fatigue. Aches and pains are making themselves known as the adrenaline wears off.

“Did you know, Chris? With each new glare, I start to see eyes the same color as mine.”

Chris is filled with a sinking despair. As if baiting him, Wesker makes a show of taking out the final vial of P30 that will keep him an obedient puppet. He makes a last desperate attempt to buck out of Wesker’s hold, only to have his vision nearly fizzle out when he inadvertently slams his injured side against Wesker’s knee. The madman looks down at him with a tsk of disappointment.

“Seems your wound opened up again. Well,” Wesker looks outside briefly as a Majini slowly slinks by without noticing them, “our options have just become limited, Chris.”

He remembers receiving the wound from a torture session...a few days ago?...when an enraged Wesker punished him for his continued defiance. The wound had unfortunately gotten worse when he fought the collosal B.O.W. in the village to save Delta team, then Irving kicked him...

“The ship will have what we need, and we’ll be able to get back to everything else after that.” Wesker puts the injector away before offering him a wry smile, “Perhaps, just this once, I’ll stop the virus instead of trying to get it.”

=

Despite being a ship with a minimal crew, the various outfittings of the freighter itself is obviously designed to allow the people on board to continue their research and otherwise live out their lives after Uroboros is unleashed. The fact that most of the ship have air-tight doors and decontamination units is evidence of Excella’s forethought.

It’s easy enough to find the medical bay, but not as easy to get Chris to stay still as Wesker undoes the leather straps tying his arms and legs together, takes off the skin-tight shirt, then secures him using the four-point restraints on the medical bed. His captive’s exposed torso is littered with scars, bruises and open wounds, some oozing a clear fluid. He smiles inwardly at his power over Chris, who is still firmly under Wesker’s control and will carry these marks forever. Thinking back to Jill’s shock and outrage upon seeing her former partner and the scars on his neck, Wesker is pleasantly reminded of how easily he’d taken Chris and how wonderfully Chris had performed against Jill. Now, with Jill probably dead, Chris will be _his_ and his alone.

 _“Better than you…_ ”

What Jill said about Clay dampens his mood slightly, but he casts the thought aside for now. Rummaging through the medical supply cabinets, he easily finds sutures, gauze, and several other items. He locks the doors to the medical bay and disconnects the cameras. Excella is many things, but efficient is not one of them. All the while, Chris claws at the restraints, succeeding only in exhausting himself.

“I should ask you, after this is all done, what you told Valentine about Clay.”

Chris bites hard against the piece of leather between his teeth, eyes briefly tinting red at the mention of his former partner, before he hurriedly collects himself.

“Silent already on the subject? I know bringing up Jill is a sore point for you, Chris, but after seeing her alive and well, you should at least be grateful.”

Chris clenches his fists to the point of blanching.

 “I had no obligation to keep her alive, anymore than I had an obligation to claim you. That you both have proven to be useful only proves me the fool for not taking care to bring you all in before.”

Wesker applies antiseptic to the sluggishly bleeding wound on Chris’s flank. He had cut open the skin with an especially hard strike of the switch a few days ago while punishing Chris. The laceration had deepened since then. He should have checked on it at some point over the past two days, but they were pressed for time.

“You’ll have to blame that on Spencer’s training, which is probably why it took your efforts in addition to mine to destroy Umbrella.”

He methodically places an interrupted suture, not bothering with anesthesia. The muscles under his fingers tense and quiver every time the needle digs into flesh. Once finished, he applies more first aid spray and a fresh piece of gauze to the wound. He runs a claiming hand over his Pointman’s body. A few new marks from the earlier fight with Vester are starting to bruise. As his hand trails further down, Chris jolts in his grip.

“You should have told me about Clay sooner, Chris. I would have thrown him to a Cerebus to be eaten. He didn’t deserve the trial and to be killed by Valentine. He barely deserved to be kept and allowed to live at all.”

He undoes the snap and zipper, stroking along Chris’s upper thighs as the younger man tries unsuccessfully to kick with his restrained legs. Wesker chuckles as he slides his hand back up to lightly trace along the middle of Chris’s abdomen and chest.

“We have some time, I believe. Enough time to have some fun. And after all of this is done, I do want to hear what you told Valentine about Clay.”

Eyes flashing red again, Chris snarls and pulls hard enough to free an arm. The younger man fights tooth and nail, but is at still Wesker’s mercy. Chris is bent over double at the hip until his thighs are pressed against his chest. One leg is flexed at the knee and tied calf to thigh with the leather straps on his outfit, then a wrist is secured to the knee. The same process is repeated on the other side, leaving Chris immobilized and unable to close his legs. Wesker positions himself between the spread legs. Chris curses through the makeshift gag and struggles madly despite the pain caused by the motions, but only succeeds in rocking into Wesker. He opens the back panel of the outfit, allowing him access to Chris’s wonderful hole. It’s still red from their last time together. His captive whips his head back and forth as Wesker pulls off his glove and traces the hole lightly with a finger.

“You’re still ready for me, it seems. How lovely.”

He retrieves the other items he found earlier, a tube of medical-grade lubricant and a “massage wand” that was shoved to the back of a supply drawer. He shows it to Chris as it is slowly coated in lubricant, “Hrm...seems like Excella’s staff are more lenient on the term ‘medical device’ than she is.”

The younger man recoils in horror at the sight of the device. Wesker pulls Chris closer until his ass and feet are almost hanging off the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit up with hunched shoulders. After a cursory check of the wound, he pushes Chris back down on the bed to begin.

The slim wand easily slips into Chris, who lets out a shout, his cock stiffening. Wesker slowly moves the wand in and out. A flourish of his wrist as the wand is pulled out makes Chris buck and pant. While he tests each setting of the wand, he moves to the naked chest, licking and sucking each nipple to a high peak.

Strangled cries spill past the gag as the bulbous head of the wand begins to vibrate and twist. He continues to move the wand while nipping and licking every bit of skin, bruised or not. He is tempted to give Chris a new scar to show Sherawat that Chris is _his_ , but another wound will make the upcoming fight harder. Or he can leave Chris here, ready and waiting, and deal with them himself. Afterwards, maybe he can take this ship as a new base, one that’s far less likely to be found and attacked.

His Pointman’s breathy moans strengthen Wesker’s resolve. He loves fighting alongside Chris, but with one vial of P30 left on his person, it’s best to leave it here to synthesize more of than to use up the last of it. But for that, he’ll have to make things good for Chris and himself.

He keeps the wand in position and slowly strokes the hard length of Chris’s cock. The younger man whimpers, eyes fluttering closed and head bending back to expose his neck. Wesker licks along it as Chris approaches orgasm, only to hold him back with a squeeze near the base. There is a choked sob at the denial.

“We can’t let you have all the fun, Chris, though I do so enjoy watching you come apart like this.”

After a few more minutes of teasing, he eventually loosens his grip. Chris lets out an angry sound that turns into a pleased groan as he comes, most of it hitting Wesker’s hand. The same hand clamps over Chris’s mouth, feeding him his own cum. Chris tries to twist his head away, but ends up swallowing most of it.

There is a gasp when the wand powers up on the same setting as before. Wesker watches with interest as Chris’s cock twitches back to life at the renewed vibrations against his prostate. A small hook in the ceiling catches Wesker’s attention. It will pull on Chris’s side a bit, but he’s not going to be leaving this room, so it should work. But for now…

The wand is removed and turned off. Chris strains towards him, mindlessly trying to seek out more stimulation. He opens his pants and lines up with the quivering body beneath him. Pulling Chris to the edge of the bed, Wesker drives in and fills him in one full stroke. Disregarding the muffled cry, he picks up the pace, angling Chris’s hips just so. His former subordinate’s body tightens and lurches, as if trying to escape the pleasure, even as he feels the pull on his cock.

“Your body still reacts to what your mind doesn’t, Chris.”

He pushes Chris back up the bed to better access his chest, neck, and mouth, while keeping up the relentless pace. Their previous session had ended on such a good note, with both Chris’s mind and body giving in, but Wesker wants it without having to resort to using P30. Chris needs to be fully his. It will happen soon. With Jill, and soon Excella and her minions, out of the picture, he will have all the time he needs to devote to Chris, to find his son Jake, and to make his new, better world.

Keeping a firm grip on Chris’s hips, he leans forward to kiss along his Pointman’s neck and up to his ear. He lightly nips the earlobe before kissing the side of Chris’s mouth. The younger man pulls away, gritting his teeth against the makeshift gag. He rams his head forward to headbutt Wesker, but due to the incredible sensations overwhelming him, the attempt is slow and easily avoided. Wesker chuckles and kisses his neck as his body arches in pleasure, though he doesn’t return the kiss.

_Progress...but Chris has always been stubborn when it comes to pleasurable things. I’ll teach him to let loose a bit, once he gives in._

Wesker pulls the tense body onto his lap as he feels himself getting closer. He frees one of Chris’s arms and ties it to the hook above them, then does the same with the other arm. Breaking off the kiss, he makes sure both arms are secured to the hook without putting excessive strain on the recently sutured laceration. Chris whimpers at the changed angle and the increased stimulation of his prostate. His hands open briefly before grabbing hold of the hook. Wesker slowly rolls his hips into the increasingly eager body, in the way that makes his Pointman the most open, the closest to giving in.

Wesker moves a hand to Chris’s back, scratching shallow indentations into the skin. He licks languidly along the sweaty body, grazing his teeth briefly over some of the marks he’d left before. The younger man shudders helplessly as his second climax approaches, no longer able to bite back noises. Wesker grins against the flushed skin at the crook of Chris’s neck when Chris’s hips begin to push back harder, losing sync and desperate for more.

“Mine,” Wesker whispers into his ear, seeing a red ring around the normally brown irises.

Chris ’s back goes taut as he comes with a muffled scream. Wesker feels the wetness of it on his shirt. He thrusts into the pliant body a few more times before letting out his own moan of pleasure, holding his Pointman tight. Chris goes limp after the ordeal, an almost blissful look on his face. The red is still in his half-lidded eyes. Wesker smiles at the sight, before lifting Chris off his lap and into a kneeling position, arms still secured to the hook overhead. He is far too quiet. Wesker can’t tell if it is because he has given in or because the stress of the past day is catching up. It’s also possible Chris is playing possum to lower his guard. Either way, it’s better if Chris stays here while he deals with Excella and her two underlings. That will allow him to finish things quickly. Even if Chris were to escape, he would no doubt busy himself with stopping Excella’s plans, which would serve Wesker’s purposes. Besides, they’re on a ship - there are only so many places to hide. Tracking him down would be a great deal of fun. Once he’s inevitably caught, Wesker can punish him for leaving the room and endangering himself, then play with him until he is begging for release and full of Wesker’s cum.

“While I’ve enjoyed hunting with you over these past few days,” he cups Chris’ face fondly, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here. I’ll be quick and deal with the others.”

Moving to one of the machines, Wesker places the remaining vial of P30 inside for analysis so that more can be synthesized.

“In the meantime, I’m sure you are aware that running off will be detrimental to your health. Sherawat wants you, and Excella is far more likely to kill you than keep you. I think waiting here will be best.”

He is tempted add in a jab about Jill’s absence, but honestly, it’s not worth setting Chris off for.

_He’s all mine now, Jill. I do hope you enjoyed chasing after someone who will never return to you._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris works to escape, and runs into Jessica. Meanwhile, Wesker goes to speak to Excella and get what he wants.

Chris keeps his head lowered and his posture limp as Wesker leaves, trying to appear pliant and submissive. He mentally counts to sixty before working furiously to free himself. He snaps the leather wrist straps off the hook, then tugs at the leather straps on his legs until they are loose enough to pull apart. He pulls out the makeshift gag and throws it onto the floor, swallowing down bile.

_I let him...I…_

**_I enjoyed it._ **

Chris puts a hand to his mouth and concentrates on breathing. He can’t dwell on this, not yet. He has to stop whatever Excella is planning, has to kill Wesker. If only that sick sonuvabitch will die for real this time when the ship sinks with its load of Uroboros virus... He stumbles to the nearby computer, sighing in relief when the records indicate that t-Abyss is in a testing facility somewhere in the Gobi Desert, thousands of miles away from the ocean. He has to upload all of this information to the B.S.A.A. before he blows the tanker up.

His fears about accidentally spreading t-Abyss into the ocean assuaged, Chris quickly searches through the remains of the medical bay, finding a pair of scrubs. They might as well be made of tissue paper compared with what Wesker dressed him in, a sleek black outfit reinforced with lightweight kevlar fibers, but he can’t stand to wear anything of Wesker’s any longer. Most of his time in that outfit was spent trapped in the drug’s thrall, restrained, beaten, used, or all of the aforementioned simultaneously. At this point, even a loincloth would be preferable.

He is unpleasantly taken aback when he catches sight of himself in the mirror. He hasn’t seen himself since being captured. He is thinner, the scrub top hanging more loosely off his frame than he is used to. A bruise is forming on his face, over where Vester had hit him and broken the mask. His hair is a little longer, but looks about the same as before and still feathered at the front. His skin isn’t as pale as he anticipated, though in hindsight he recalls Wesker taking him outside into the sunlight a few times. As he reflects on the past two months of captivity, his lungs suddenly constrict without warning and his thoughts flitter apart erratically-- He can’t, not now, he has to stop TRICELL, stop Wesker…

Something about his eyes catches his attention: there is a thin rim of red around each iris, bleeding into the usual brown. This undeniable sign of how much Wesker has changed him must be why Jill looked at him with such a pained expression…

_“He’s mine.”_

“No,” Chris repeats to himself, looking away and squeezing his eyes shut, “I’m not. I’m not his. I won’t be.”

He swallows and slowly opens his eyes, careful not to look at the mirror again. His attention wanders to the last machine Wesker stopped at. Inside is a vial of the drug that had enslaved him to Wesker, stopped him from going to Jill, kept him a passive bystander as Clay suffered a fate worse than death--

He blinks as he sees his right fist buried in the smoking machine. A red “ERROR” message flashes before the machine fizzles out completely. He slowly pulls back his fist, now bloody and hurting. More alarmingly, the knuckles over his middle and ring fingers are flattened. He relaxes his hand hesitantly. The movement is painless for now, but the hand is likely broken.

_Shit. Not good._

He wraps up the hand with tape and gauze, immobilizing it as much as possible. He takes in deep breaths to try to calm himself. His body had punched the machine of its own accord and his mind has no recollection of the fact... _Stop. Think about it later._

_Yeah, go full Scarlett O’Hara, huh? “I won’t think about it today, I’ll think about it tomorrow.” **Since when has that worked out for you?**_ **You should just give in like before. Didn’t that feel so good?**

“Shut up,” Chris mutters, slowly opening the locked door and peeking outside in search of a weapon. At this point he’ll take a freakin’ _stick_. He honestly doubts that Wesker is stupid enough to believe that he has given in so easily, but that doesn’t mean he won’t take this opportunity to get away and destroy Uroboros.

The corridor leading away from the medbay has a few supply crates, and he lucks out on a Browning 9mm. He’s not as good of a shot with his left hand, but he can still hit what he aims at. Right now that’s all he needs. He can do this. He will do this.

He slowly ascends the stairs, on high alert for whatever enemies may be stowed away onboard. The medbay is too meagerly supplied to support more than a few living people onboard. All he’s been able to sense so far on the ship are the infected.

Sense...He can sense them...and…

The same feeling of sickness he previously noticed on Jessica and Vester seems to gather above him. He slowly looks up. There is a cocoon-like sack of black tentacles anchored to the ceiling. Jessica, or what’s become of her, is crawling around the pulsating mass like a spider. Her arms have become unnaturally long with arched, elongated fingers that terminate in claws. Bony appendages protrude from her back like a sick parody of wings.

He swallows in fear. It has been only a few hours at most since he last saw Jessica. How did the mutation progress so quickly? What did Excella do to her?

In her current state, a hit from a handgun will probably just slow her down. Unfortunately, he has to deal with her before he can go further into the ship. If she’s that far along, it’s going to take fire to end her, or enough bullets. Hope bubbles in his chest when he sees a stockpile of emergency supplies in a nearby side room, though getting to them without catching her attention will be tricky. The alternative is staying put and doing nothing, but that is not an option. He needs to stop Excella’s plans.

He manages to sneak past Jessica, who is busy cooing over the writhing mass of whatever is incubating in the cocoon. Ducking into the side room, he hurriedly opens one of the kits as quietly as possible. He lets out a breath of relief when he finds a flare gun inside. It’s one-shot only, but with enough luck, he’ll be able to deal enough damage to at least make this fight easier.

“ **Chhrrisss?** ” Jessica hisses in the slow and sensual way as before her untimely transformation. He quickly digs through the next case and hears something clatter down -- another flare gun. Grabbing it off the floor, he barely dives out of the way before a bone-like appendage slams into where he just was. Jessica pulls herself partially into the room.  

“ **Thheerrre you are. My lovely. My Chris.** ”

“Jessica,” he breathes out, trying to find an exit. The only recognizable part of Jessica is her face and her black hair. The rest of her body has changed into something like a black widow spider, save for the bone-white appendages and glowing tumors pulsing on various parts of her body. This close, the scent of whatever virus is mutating her is enough to make him want to puke.  

“ **You’re juuuusssstt in tiiiimmmmme, Chhhrisss.** ” Her rictus grin widens as she watches him slowing edging away. “ **Ssssooooonnn...Uroboros will be rrrready. Ray...has a wwwoooonnderful plan.** ”

“I bet. And where are you in that plan? What the hell did you let yourself become?”

Her head turns beyond 90 degrees. “ **Ohhh? I became...thiiissss. Issn’t it loooovvvveeely?** ”

“I dunno what Excella told you, but you’re not.”

Jessica rears back to her full height, exposing her chest, which has been opened and hollowed out. Instead of the regular organs, a glowing tumor pulses in the chest cavity. The black skin of her torso is covered in dark red stripes that seem to shift subtly. His stomach clenches in revulsion as he realizes that they’re actually gashes, almost like the gills of a fish, that expose the fleshy red of her insides. They make wet, unsettling sounds as they open and close in sync with her breathing.

“ **What do you know!? You reek of sex with that old man, reek of his seed. You’re supposed to be mine! MINE!** ”

He scrambles out of the way as Jessica charges at him. The bony appendages on her back are leaking a transparent fluid that he carefully avoids, just in case it’s something toxic or corrosive. One of the appendages shoots out after him and embeds itself in the door, warping the metal. At the first opportunity, he opens fire with the handgun at the gashes on her side. She screams in rage at each hit. His broken hand begins to hurt from gripping the flare gun, but he doesn’t let go. He races out of the distorted door frame of the side room just as Jessica launches herself at him again, missing by a hair’s breadth. She bursts out of the doorway in hot pursuit, her numerous appendages shoving into the steel walls hard enough to dent. Stumbling down the stairs, he sees the cocoon pulse, the Uroboros tentacles starting to fall out or bury themselves into the outside shell. Not wanting to see what kind of monster it will turn into next, he switches the flare gun to his good hand and fires at a red, pulsing opening on the cocoon. His aim is true and the whole thing is enveloped in flames.

“ **Nooo! NO, no, those were OURS! OuRS! NO!** ”

He throws the now-empty flare gun in her face and takes off. She starts to transform further, the last of her human face disintegrating into something insectoid. Her skin splits. Her hair floats disconcertingly in the air, as if buoyant. He grips the remaining flare gun in his broken hand, hissing in pain as the bones shift. The sound of tearing metal is loud behind him as Jessica breaks the door apart and climbs towards the still-burning cocoon. Her hysterical screeching echo the corridors when the fluid on her extra appendages catches fire. One falls off as she shrieks his name.

=

“Albert!” Excella sounds far too happy to see him, her arms open as he walks in. Vester follows after him, probably with a gun and the PG76A/W ready. Wesker doubts it will affect him or Chris, but decides that the best thing to do is play along.

“I thought you’d come. Our vision is about to become a reality.” Excella frowns, “Where is Redfield?”

“He was acting up. I left him in the med-bay. I also was synthesizing more P30. I’ve made some improvements to the formula, though I suppose Redfield was a poor test subject.”

She huffs in annoyance before looking at him expectantly, “And you’re here...because?”

He looks briefly at the monitors, seeing the jet, the ready Uroboros missiles, and the changed Sherawat. “Your two operatives interest me, though I see it didn’t quite work out for one of them.”

“We need precision. She dawdled for too long and was late for her injection. That is the result. Raymond has done far better than her.”

Vester nearly preens at the praise.

“I warned her about this, but she became too obsessive about Redfield.”

There is an obvious jab at Wesker’s own obsessiveness, but he lets it slide as he sees Chris starting up the stairs on one of the camera feeds.

_So, you still won’t obey me when it’s for your own good. Oh well. I need to get rid of Sherawat anyway._

“He doesn’t seem very tame.” Excella sidles closer to trace a hand down his back.

“He isn’t, which is why I’m getting tired of trying. Obviously a wild dog will always bite its master. I told you before - Lenka did shoddy research on the Progenitor virus-based drug we administered to Redfield when he was first captured. This drug supposedly causes temporary immunosuppression in the recipient to encourage...parenteral transmission of the Prototype virus, but the effects of transmission on both parties are unpredictable. Lenka himself ended up obsessed and sex-crazed over the woman he transmitted his Prototype virus to. However, my own strain of the Prototype has allowed for mental clarity, even when I am separated from the subject I infected. Sadly, transmission of the Prototype doesn’t do much to alter the subject’s mind, at least not enough to keep _my_ attention.”

Excella beams at his last comment, obviously taking it to mean that he only has interest for her. Vester, on the other hand, doesn’t seem convinced of his sincerity.

“I assume you know what the new plan is, or can guess?”

“The explosion earlier took out far too many Uroboros canisters. Even if dispersed at high altitude, the amount is insufficient to achieve complete global saturation. Even if you managed to add in properties of the t-Abyss to make it both air- and water-borne, it still would not reach high enough concentrations to separate the wheat from the chaff as we originally planned.”

Excella smirks, as if that proves a point to Vester, who keeps his arms crossed and looks rather put-upon. The former FBC member is unlikely to be easily swayed, but Wesker only needs Excella on his side for now.

“Keeping the world in suspense and perhaps a ransom would work. I suspect you have already picked a high value target. Even if they were to shoot the plane down before Uroboros could be dispersed, there would still be a biohazard incident, one that even the FBC would be hard-pressed to approve of.” He holds back a snicker at Vester’s glare. “You have bought enough time to find a workaround. Brava, Excella. I’m pleased that my time away to test my own limits has resulted in such wonderful improvements in your abilities. Perhaps after Chris is done dealing with Sherawat, Vester can go up against him and see who’s taken to the virus better, though I’m guessing Vester will have the upper hand.”

Excella looks surprised at his suggestion. Vester slowly uncrosses his arms.

“Redfield has proven fun, but I’ve also discovered I don’t need him. Whatever the effects of Prototype transmission, it is apparently different for every Prototype carrier. Mine was to push my curiosity off on whomever I infected, until I lost interest. Chris’s usefulness has ended. If he’s not about to accept my gifts without being controlled, I see no reason to waste more time on him. Besides, he’s infected with an imperfect Prototype strain. What good is that?”

“Imperfect?” Excella asks, curious.

“It seems passing on the Prototype virus the old-fashioned way fails to pass along a perfect strain of it that would provide the same advantages as the original. Wherever my bastard son is, it might be fun to test him out, see what quantity of Prototype virus his body can tolerate before he mutates. I’ve already reached that point with Chris.” He tenderly runs a hand down Excella’s cheek. “This is our vision - separating the wheat from the chaff of humanity, so only we who are worthy will rule the world together. Redfield is a distraction, one I am done with and have no more need for. ”

Excella all but melts under his attention. Vester stares at them disbelievingly, “I’ll prepare the plane. I take it we’ll finalize the target after you two are...done?”

She looks miffed, “Do you not trust Albert?”

“I don’t,” Vester replies, holding up the vial of PG67A/W that Wesker assumes is meant to cure him of his obsession with Chris. “But I’m going to assume that you’d like Wesker to be at his best, while I deal with the one who accidentally caught the Prototype virus while he was being...distracting.”

He can all but hear Excella’s teeth grind at the comment about Chris, before she moves to stand in front of him protectively.

 “I have no use for Redfield alive. If you must, see what happens when you overdose him on PG67A/W. I will not have him live to see the sunrise,” she seethes.

Vester glances at Wesker, who makes a show of indifference at the prospect of Chris’s impending death. Satisfied for now by the lack of reaction, the redhead heads out. Excella relaxes as she turns back to Wesker, reaching for his arms and stroking the muscles possessively.

“Albert...you don’t really need him, do you?”

“His body will be good for some experiments, but he doesn’t need to be alive for that,” he lies, shrugging impassively. Excella drapes her arms on his shoulders.

“Then, you _have_ come back to me. Back to your senses. We can have a new world. Our vision will be fulfilled.”

He smiles and moves to kiss her, pushing down an ill feeling. _This is for Chris. I’ll punish him for his little escape later._ Killing Excella outright would be a waste, especially when it would be far more poetic to let her to see what her - _their -_ virus is capable of. He doubts she’ll survive the experiment, but the data will be worth it, especially if a certain organization shows up at an inopportune time.

The proximity alarm gets them to part. Excella’s perfectly manicured eyebrows scrunch in annoyance at the incoming helicopter.

“Those cockroaches don’t understand when to die.”  
“They are persistent,” he walks up from behind to wrap an arm around her waist. “I have a way to deal with them.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. We can’t have them ruining our plans.”

She looks up at him expectantly with a smile that falters for a moment.

“Albert?”

“How invested are you, really, in those two you got from the FBC? You already turned one...what’s one other?”

She nods in agreement, obviously trusting him.

“If you can, get the Majini onto the main deck. I think we should put on a good show for everyone, don’t you?”

=

Chris curses as the gun clicks empty. Jessica, charred and weakened, is still floundering towards him. The cocoon he set on fire earlier has filled the area with thick, acrid smoke. He coughs uncontrollably when he inhales it. Putting a hand up to cover his nose and mouth, he looks for a way out and sees the bulkhead door. He’s out of ammo, out of any other ways to deal with Jessica, but it looks like the fire is probably going to kill her before she can make it to him. He’d rather have more ammo for his gun. There should be more supplies _somewhere_.

“ **Chrrrrissss...** ”

He opens the door by a sliver as a siren begins to sound. He shuts it hurriedly when he hears the movement of nearby Majini. Scanning the smokey surroundings, he spots another stack of supply boxes. He runs past Jessica’s faltering, clicking steps and reaches the boxes, relief flooding him when he sees at least one magazine set up. The rest bullets are still boxed up, but he can work with this.

He releases the empty magazine and gingerly replaces it with the full one, holding back a hiss when he jostles the broken hand. It is becoming increasingly painful. Earlier, he’d been forced to fire the remaining flare with his broken hand when she got too close and hit him with a lucky swipe. His cry of pain was at least covered by her shriek when the flare hit one of the open sores and made her catch on fire. Of course, that didn’t kill her.

His luck has been bad for the past two months. Why would it be any different now?

He takes careful aim with the reloaded handgun as Jessica appears again, nothing left of her human features. The fire and smoke coming off her body barely obscure the red-orange glow of the tumors that seem to have replaced her internal organs. She’s transforming into something even more horrible. He can only hope the bullets in this magazine are enough to take her down before that happens.

She rears up a final time, revealing a large gash in her midsection that exposes one of the glowing tumors.

“You killed Jill. Burn in hell, Jessica.”

The monster doesn’t even acknowledge her name, instead letting out another shriek. He empties the clip into her, each bullet finding its mark. The burnt husk falls backwards with a wet splat, oozing tar and gore.  

The siren suddenly stops. He wonders who called the Majini and to where. Maybe it would be enough of a distraction to keep Wesker and everyone else away for a while, but that would be too idealistic... Vester is still probably around, and Wesker is going to be pissed about the loss of that mind-control drug. Not that Chris is planning to be around when Wesker finds out. However, with only one good hand, he will need to find another few magazines already set up, or take the time to set them up himself.

He climbs back up the stairs and continues further into the ship, doing his best to not breathe in the noxious smoke. After passing by an area of blackout curtains, he exits through a bulkhead door. Judging by the briny smell in the air, he has reached an outside deck, but it is unlit and too dark to see much. There is the sound of a helicopter nearby. Squinting, he tries to spot it. That can’t be Wesker’s, and definitely isn’t Excella’s. It suddenly reminds him that Wesker has mentioned a plane, a high altitude one…

Where the hell is it?

He slowly wanders through the pitch black area, looking up and down for the plane. There is a flight deck, but no aircraft in sight. Under it then? He has to get there. There should be a way to start it, or blow it up. Something! He won’t let them win. He’ll get them for killing Jill.

**_I already got Jessica, what’s a few more of them?_ **

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His vision is sharpening in the darkness. It must mean he is changing more...that he is… What’s the use of fighting it? He’s already infected, already a lost cause. He can use this to end it, end everything… **Why not just forget all this and go back to Wesker? At least you can have a good fuck and finally be a good boy for your Captain--**

“Shut up,” he mutters to himself, not needing to think about Clay, Wesker, about--

Hitting the nearest wall with his broken hand, he focuses on the pain instead. The shooting, consuming pain is more intense than expected and makes his vision waiver, but at least he can’t think about anything now.

“Fuck…” It hurts. There must be something under the flight deck, something that might be carrying Uroboros. He has to blow it and this tanker sky-high.

He slowly climbs down the ladders, careful to avoid further damage to his broken hand. There are no Majini in the area, and he doesn’t yet sense the wrongness that would indicate Vester’s proximity. Reaching the loading area on the main deck, he furtively weaves between the shipping containers, careful to stay out of the light. He pauses at the sound of two sets of approaching footsteps, then senses Vester behind him. He hurries to get as far away as possible, but the sensation of wrongness and the sound of the other man’s footsteps get closer to the shipping containers. Chris sprints out into the open, caution be damned. At least there, he can have more space to maneuver during the fight.

He staggers to a halt the moment he gets to the main deck. There is a huge pile of what must be hundreds of dead Majini. More bodies are scattered across the floor of the cargo hold. Vester also stops, unable to hold back a few choice words at the sight. Wesker swaggers towards the pile of bodies with a struggling Excella in tow. Her legs kick helplessly in the air as she claws at Wesker’s arms. Vester rushes after Wesker, Chris forgotten. Having no intentions of getting involved in this fight, Chris turns tail and bolts. At least Wesker is occupied and hopefully hasn’t seen him. If he’s lucky, he can get back below and find the hanger for the mystery aircraft, then blow up this tanker and end it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to lullite for the wonderful beta work, asking about stuff, and also helping me with setting things up and encouraging my torment of Chris. *BWAHAHAHA!*


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris learns Jill's fate, while he and Wesker have their final argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued lovely happy thanks to my beta Lullite, who asks all the questions, fixes all my typos, and is seriously a lovely wonderful person that helps me with my very weird new obsession.

_One Hour Earlier - Hidden Dock_

 

From her hiding spot, Jill watches Vester head back to the ship after an unfruitful search for her and Sheva’s bodies. Sheva is still unconscious, though the first-aid spray has treated the worst of her visible injuries, a first aid kit fixing the rest. The explosion was massive enough to knock out Jill for some time. Her ears are still ringing from the concussive blast. She’s grateful they managed to hide from Vester, but hopes that Sheva wakes soon. They can’t afford to waste too much time, but Jill isn’t about to leave her alone in a dangerous place like this, not with the Majini and other, more aggressive B.O.W.s in the area.

Vester walks onboard the ship. The final few ramps to the freighter pull up, leaving only the moorings as a potential entry point. Unfortunately, all are being guarded by Majini and variants.

“Damnit…now what?”

“Huh?”

Jill draws in a grateful breath at Sheva’s groggy voice, shifting her partner to get a better look at her.

“W-wha?”

“Sheva, there was an explosion. We’re fine, but the freighter is about to leave. Can you get in touch with Josh or someone else?”

“Yes. Josh is nearby, and Doug. They’ll help...Doug should have a helo we can use.”

“Good. We’ll just have to get to where they can pick us up.”

Slinging one of Sheva’s arms over her shoulder, she helps Sheva stand up. They have yet to make their way down to the freighter when it pulls away. Jill silently curses their luck. If she were alone, she might have been able to reach the docks in time and get onboard, though surviving after doing so is another matter. Even in Raccoon City, she hadn’t been alone. If that were the case, she would not have survived.

Sheva’s call to Delta team is answered by Doug’s jovial voice, “ _Sheva? And Ms. Valentine? Oh, it’ll be my treat to pick up two such lovely ladies._ ”

“ _Sheva,_ ” Josh joins in, sounding worried, “ _are you alright?”_

“Been better, but we’re safe and I’m up, and it’s getting dark. Excella’s freighter’s leaving now and we need to get to them. We’re on a time-crunch, Josh.”

“ _Damn...right. You two get to the pad and keep the bastards from getting us. We’ll get you both out of there.”_

 _“Hey, little sister,”_  there is a serious edge to Doug’s usual playful tone, “ _there’s some communication stuff there too. Get the freighter’s call-sign, we can use that to keep track of them._ ”

“Copy that,” Jill says, hope starting to rise in her. “But we need to be careful. They have Uroboros on that ship… It’s unstable and very dangerous.”

“ _We’re supposed to be the chivalrous ones, Ms. Valentine!_ ” Doug protests. Sheva smiles at her, showing how obvious it is that Jill is part of the team, _“We’ll take on whatever those bastards have for us, and sink them too. They’re not succeeding in their evil ways. We’ll make them repent.”_

 

=

 

_Present - TRICELL Ship Deck_

 

Jill sees a familiar figure race away from the main loading area. She moves to follow, but is sidetracked by the sound of fighting coming from the main deck. They cautiously make their way there. The smell of gore hits them before the sight of a huge pile of bodies. Next to the pile, Excella Gionne is writhing on the floor in agony. Vester is comically trying to stab an injector into Wesker, who effortlessly evades his attempts, as if toying with him.

“You set us up!” Vester accuses as Gionne starts to spasm unnaturally.

“And you’re not paying attention.” Wesker abruptly disarms him. There is a sickening crunch of fracturing bone. Vester screams, blood pouring from his arm as the broken ends rip through skin.

“You both really are the knock-offs I thought you’d be. The Progenitor virus will never be strong enough to stand up to the likes of my Prototype, nor will it be enough to break Chris’s connection to me.”

Vester collapses to the floor, blood spurting from his arm like a fountain. Gionne cries out for Wesker, reaching out to him. He eyes her like a particularly interesting lab rat, before his attention goes to Jill and Sheva.

“Jill...back from the dead again. You seem to have a knack for surviving things you’re not supposed to. I’m quite impressed.”

“Where’s Chris, you bastard!” she yells, not even phrasing it as a question. Her gun is aimed at his head. _One shot_.

“If he were a good boy, he’d be waiting for me where I left him, but you know Chris. What did Clay call him in that report?”

She glares daggers at him at the mention of the now-dead man who made Chris’s life hell in the Air Force. Wesker must be patting himself on the back for what he did to Clay, even though it only brought Chris pain instead of closure.

“He’s not quite insubordinate, but he doesn’t listen. I’m going to punish him for that.” Wesker kicks Vester halfway across the deck. The redhead rolls to a stop near the writhing Excella. “Meanwhile, how about you and your partner get reacquainted with Uroboros? Excella and her little knock-off have served their purpose.”

Excella’s wailing stops. Black tentacles force themselves out of her gaping mouth, engulfing her body and pulling in the corpses around her. One grabs Vester. Ever increasing numbers of tentacles sprout from the growing mass as it assimilates more corpses. Vester’s pleas for help turn into deafening screams of agony before he falls silent as well.

“Sheva, go!” Jill yells as a throng of tentacles come after them. The two maneuver around the shipping containers, climbing over several, and make a mad rush for the upper decks. The creaking of steel is loud around them.

“This isn’t good. You...wasn’t Chris around?”

“He was,” Jill confirms, even though she didn’t get a good look at him, “but we have to deal with Excella right now. Then we go find him.”

“You think our weapons can hurt it?”

“I know monsters like that. We just need one good hit. We can do this.”

Sheva nods, trusting her. From their higher vantage point, they see what Excella has become. Having consumed what must have been hundreds of bodies, the Uroboros monster occupies almost half of the lower deck. Three glowing orange sacks sprout like strange fruit from the conglomeration of tentacles. “There! Hit there!”

Sheva opens fire with a machine gun. Jill looks around and spots exactly what she needs. There would be a rocket launcher here. Of course.

The sound of machine gun fire from the circling helicopter gives her hope. Skillfully evading the barrage of tentacles, the helo strafes the monster and ruptures one of the sacks. Jill grabs the rocket launcher and locks onto the largest part of the monster.

“Bitch, you’d better keep an eye on me too.”

The explosion from the rocket sets the center of the monster aflame. A high-pitched screech emanates from the it as it starts to disintegrate almost immediately.

“ _Lovely shot, Ms. Valentine! No wonder our Captain wants you--._ ”

“ _Doug, if you finish that sentence, I swear on all that is holy I will throw you out of the helo and fly it myself._ ”

She can’t help but smile at their antics. The radio call breaks up momentarily with static as she asks, “You two see anything useful from up there?”

“ _A flight deck - it’s plenty big enough to land a helo, and also looks like it’s got a ramp set up for an assault bomber. Small enough to launch it, but not enough to send it too far._ ”

Making their way back inside the ship, Jill and Sheva find the surveillance room displaying video feeds from the security cameras inside the ship, including the one for the flight deck Josh and Doug are talking about. There is a man in dirty scrubs moving missiles out of the bomber’s cargo hold and putting them where they would be hit by the heat of the engine exhaust if the plane were to take off.

_Chris._

Wesker is also headed that way. Her stomach clenches in panic. He said something about Prototype, and--

“Wasn’t Vester trying to inject Wesker with something like this?” Sheva takes out the injector that Sherawat dropped in the underground facility. Jill nearly rolls her eyes at the name on the label, PG67A/W. Excella isn’t very smart in her naming. She probably didn’t expect a former S.T.A.R.S. member, let alone someone who knows Wesker well enough, to be dogging his every step.

Jill nods, glancing back at the monitors before contacting Doug and Josh. “Do you have any way to get to us if the bomber launches, or to shoot it down?”

“ _Depends on the type, but the faster ones will be harder to catch,”_  Doug replies, serious at last. “ _But there’s also a mountain range nearby. You’re not too far out at sea. If they are trying to get good altitude, they might take that path. If you can direct it that way somehow, we can catch up with you guys there._ ”

“We’ll do our best to get there.”

_Hang on Chris. I’m going to get you out of here._

=

“I could have sworn I told you to stay put.”

Chris freezes at the sound of Wesker’s voice, and attempts to compose himself before turning around. Wesker doesn’t have the drug to control him now. He has a fighting chance. Maybe he can even make it out of this mess alive.

“Silent treatment again, Chris? You know I don’t like that. I’m sure that as much as you’d enjoy going back into that sensory deprivation box instead of dealing with me, I can figure out _something_ to get you to talk. You’ve been vocal in the past, when you were being beaten black and blue. Or do you think that silence will keep me from getting out every detail I need from you? I don’t even have to make it painful, just test your endurance over and over, until you can’t even _think_ about disobeying me like a willful child.”

Chris's fantasies of a favorable outcome to this encounter immediately evaporate. The last Uroboros missile slips out of his leaden fingers and hits the floor with a dull thump. He tries but fails to stop his body’s involuntary trembling at the thought of the impending punishment. A sob threatens to escape, as intrusive memories of what Wesker has done in the past barge into the forefront of his mind. The madman’s growing smirk suggests that the reaction has not gone unnoticed. He suddenly feels physically ill. Based on how much he has already given in, there is no telling what will happen if he suffers through another torture session. Will he even have any semblance of self left afterwards?

He'd rather die before that happens.

There is enough distance between them that he might have a chance to run if Wesker comes after him. A cold resolve seeps through him. He just needs to get rid of these Uroboros missiles and finish off Wesker, or at least do as much damage to him as possible. What happens afterwards won’t matter.

“What are you hoping to accomplish by moving those missiles?” Wesker walks towards one of the ladders, intending to jump down to reach him. “I don’t see anything that might result in an explosion, Chris. Did your senses leave you without me there to direct them?”

_He hasn’t seen the gas canisters. Good._

“Clay said stuff like that too,” Chris spits out, feeling a sense of reckless glee as Wesker’s supercilious look turns into anger. He had put his gun down earlier in order have both hands free to move the missiles. He just needs to distract Wesker long enough to retrieve the gun… _fuck it. We’re about to die. He might as well hear it._

“I didn’t even like the bastard I went in to save, but he was my team, and I always thought that meant something. Clay always spouted on and on about how much teamwork mattered, until I disobeyed his order to leave that guy behind. He called me a dumb grunt who couldn’t follow orders written inside of my eyelids. That I couldn’t have it both ways, that I need to pick my loyalties. Then everyone told me I picked wrong.” Wesker stops, standing above him like a preacher on a pulpit, even though Chris is the one lecturing. “That wasn’t the first time I was accused of not being able to pick.” He laughs bitterly, hating this tactic, even if though it’s working. Wesker doesn’t seem to notice as he edges closer to the handgun, which still has two bullets in it. _Enough, even with this virus in me. It has to be._

“I can’t make up my mind, can’t pick who I like best, so I’m obviously a slut.”

Before Jill, the other time he’d opened up to someone, he’d been accused of just that. He slowly clenches his broken hand into a fist, the pain keeping him grounded in the present. He shakes his head, repeating back the words Clay had said before he’d taken when he wanted, “’I gave you an order, a simple order that even _you_ could understand, and this is how you repay my kindness? You want my help, you’re gonna have to prove you _deserve it_.’”

The metal railing all but snaps apart under Wesker’s hands.  

“Never thought you’d be as bad as him, but I’m always wrong, apparently. You’re worse than Clay.”

Wesker makes an animalistic sound and sprints towards Chris, but it is too late. In a smooth motion, Chris grabs the gun, rests it on his right arm, and fires at the gas canisters. The blast engulfs Wesker and the Uroboros missiles. The virus is quickly lost to the heat and flames. The force of the explosion sends Chris rolling. Disoriented from vertigo and tinnitus, he struggles to his knees. The new areas of pain on his body mean he was probably hit by debris. His left shoulder feels dislocated. His gun is nowhere to be found.

He has yet to regain his bearings when he is snatched by the throat and forced to look into reptilian eyes. Wesker’s coat is torn and singed. Rips in the black shirt and combat fatigues reveal the pale skin underneath. The everpresent sunglasses have also been lost in the fray. Chris brings up his right hand to scrabble ineffectively at the vice grip around his neck, cringing as the movement jars the broken bones. His left arm refuses to move.

“I am _nothing_ like that man.” Wesker pulls him closer, breath hot against his face.

“You are,” Chris chokes out. His left arm is essentially unusable and his right hand is broken. In his current state, there is no way he can kill Wesker. At least Uroboros has been destroyed. The B.S.A.A. can do the rest. He just needs to keep Wesker occupied long enough for them to show up and blow up the ship. If the blond bastard got pissed and finished him off beforehand, that would be fine. The world has no use for another one of Wesker’s infected playthings, especially one that has been complicit in the deaths of numerous people. And Jill is gone… He let her down yet again.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he looks Wesker in the eye. “You’re just like him. Exa-”

The tightening of the fingers around his throat cuts off the rest of what he wants to say. Darkness seeps into the edges of his blurring vision.  

_Jill...I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him._

There is the sound of a gunshot. The grip on Chris’s neck loosens. He lands on the floor in an awkward tangle of limbs, legs unwilling to support his weight. When his vision clears again, Wesker is holding a bleeding shoulder and standing between him and two others.

Jill and her partner stand at the ready, guns up. The murderous intent on her face is visible even through the cloud of smoke.

_They’re alive? Jill’s alive...she’s alive._

He tries to crawl toward them, but is suddenly picked up. A burst of inhuman speed disorients him, before he’s set down against a solid wall in the plane’s cargo hold. Judging by the view from the windows and the sound of the engine, the plane is preparing for liftoff.

“I’m beginning to think I should’ve killed her myself,” Wesker mutters as he returns from the cockpit, “Though I’m not sure what you were trying to accomplish by comparing me to the insect we squashed.”

Chris allows the tension to leave his body - with the Uroboros threat gone, taking out the plane will be far less complicated. All that needs to happen is for someone to call in a strike, and Wesker’s fate would be sealed.

It’s over. There’s nowhere for Wesker to go now.

Without warning, Wesker grabs and twists his left arm behind his back. Pain erupts from his dislocated shoulder, making him blackout. He wakes up to Wesker’s voice.

“You seem well for a dead woman, Jill. I underestimated you.”

Jill is in front of them, clad in a dark catsuit that contrasts sharply with her light skin and hair. Chris remembers Wesker’s threat about taking him in front of Jill, and begins to struggle anew despite the pain radiating through his left arm.

“Let him go and maybe I’ll only shoot you in the head _once_.”

The villain snorts and pulls Chris up like a meatshield, one arm wrapping around his chest and the other continuing to twist his arm behind his back. Jill and Sheva’s guns are trained on Wesker. The tension between both parties is palpable.

“He’s _mine_ , and if you think I’ll give him up so easily, you’re as foolish as Excella and her little knockoffs that we dispatched for you.”

Chris gives Jill a pleading look, hoping she will just take out Wesker and to hell with him. If she sees it, she doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Do you really think the B.S.A.A. will take Chris back? Or do you think you can protect him better than I can?”

“You’re doing such a great job of it, with how he tried to kill you earlier. At least with me, he gets someone who hasn’t betrayed him.” Jill snaps back. An irate growl emanates from the back of Wesker’s throat. Chris knows that sound - it’s the same as when the B.O.W.s got too close to him during Wesker’s experiments, before...

“Jill, look out!” He screams before Wesker tosses him aside. Gunfire breaks out Wesker goes after them.

=

Jill barely dodges out of the way as Wesker charges at her. Distracted by Chris’s limp body crumbling into a corner, she narrowly avoids an uppercut, only to be kicked into a wall. Wesker’s red eyes have taken a yellow tinge. He pulls out his old Samurai Edge and opens fire at Sheva, who takes cover behind a crate. He doesn’t seem to notice that the fight has put further distance between himself and Chris, and Jill isn’t about to point it out. She quickly rejoins the fight, forcing Wesker to focus on dodging the rain of bullets from her and Sheva. The fight is obviously at the forefront of his mind now, as he temporarily stops monologuing about how Chris is _his_ , how he plans to change the world, or whatever bullshit he is spouting for the week. They eventually have to reload. During the brief lull, Wesker starts running off at the mouth again.

“He told you about Clay, didn’t he?” he spits out the name of Chris’s now-dead Air Force superior like a curse. “He told you, and you did _nothing_. I, at least, took action. It’s because of me that the men who hurt him will _pay_ , and you _dare_ try to get in the way of that?”

“I do,” she faces him unflinchingly even as he holds the Samurai Edge against her forehead. Her own weapon is pointed at his heart. “Because he _told_ me _._ I didn’t have to play detective and work it out like _you_ did.”

While Wesker is busy pontificating, Sheva sneaks in a good hit. Jill pulls out Chris’s combat knife, the one he’d kept since S.T.A.R.S., and lands another hit on his shoulder, near the bullet wound she’d already given him. He knocks her away, leaving the knife stuck in his shoulder. Sheva drives the knife deeper into him as he hisses in outrage, focused entirely on her for a moment. Seizing the window of opportunity, Jill kicks out his knee and puts him in a choke-hold, forcing him to look up at her.

“I’m sick of your _bullshit_ , Wesker!” She jams the injector into his neck. As soon as the PG67A/W is administered, he lets out a hoarse cry and breaks away. Pulling out the injector, he dashes it against the wall so hard that it breaks into pieces on impact.

“You _and_ TRICELL, all of you are just shadows and leftovers of Umbrella and their fucked-up ideas. You’re not taking Chris again!”

“He is _mine_ , and I will _not_ leave here without him.” Wesker snarls like a rabid dog, his eyes almost completely yellow.

There is a faint sound before the lights go out and the emergency red lights come on. Chris is leaning heavily against the wall, gripping the override lever to open the cargo hold. He locks eyes with Wesker.

“Yes, you are.”

He pulls down on the lever. Wesker vaults over Jill and Sheva, nearly landing on Chris, who slumps over but maintains eye contact. Suddenly, Wesker stumbles drunkenly, falling to one knee.

“You’ll pay for that,” he promises darkly, trying to reach for Chris, but seems unable to focus enough to do so.

As the cargo doors open, Jill races to grab hold of a nearby pylon, pulling Sheva close. Wesker tries again to snatch Chris, but is sucked towards the door as the cabin depressurizes. Losing his footing, he slams into the same beam Jill and Sheva are holding onto. He attempts to grab onto Sheva, who shoots him in the arm and kicks him in the face before he can get a good grip. He flies out of the door and disappears into the darkness below, screaming at Chris all the while.

The plane is quickly losing altitude, the sudden descent making Chris’s hold precarious. Jill reels him in just before his hand slips.

“I got you!” she yells over the noise of rushing air, an arm around his waist. She pulls Chris close, hoping to absorb some of the impact. The plane crashes onto a thankfully flat patch of ground and slides noisily to a stop. When it’s finally over, Chris is barely conscious from the jarring landing. Sheva is also slow to recover, but eventually looks over at Chris for a long moment.

“I’ll check to make sure Doug and Josh can find us,” she says, before grabbing some flares and heading out.

“Not too far. Wesker’s persistent. Even a fall like that might only make him angry.”

Wesker may already be swimming through the ocean to come after them. Sheva looks disbelieving, but promises to be careful.

After a while, Chris shifts in her hold. His eyes are closed, but his face is far from relaxed. This close, she’s finally able to get a better look at what’s happened to her partner since Wesker had taken him.

“Chris,” she brushes some hair out of his face. His eyes flutter open briefly at the light touch. He still has the usual tan, but that’s about the only thing that is the same from before. His hair is longer than he prefers and uneven in places. His face looks haggard and a bit too thin. The visible parts of his neck and shoulders are covered in scars and welts, mostly from what appears to be bite marks. The rest of him is likely faring no better. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through. The scrubs he’s wearing are dirty from blood and soot. They fit him loosely, with the weight he’s lost. His build is leaner compared to what she remembered.

“Chris, look at me.”

“Jill...you...you should’ve…”

She knows what he wants to say, and hates how raw his voice sounds.

“Chris, open your eyes and look at me.”

He turns a bit towards her, but doesn’t open them. “Please, Jill, you…”

“You’re still Chris Redfield. You’re still my partner. Please, Chris. If you want me to do such a thing, at least look me in the eyes when you ask.”

Jill’s glad Sheva isn’t here to see this. She waits patiently and helps him sit up against the I-beam. He opens his eyes at last, though they remain downcast for a long time before he finally looks up at her hesitantly.

His irises are rimmed red, a color similar to Wesker’s eyes. It’s not as bad as during their previous encounter at the underground facility, when his eyes were completely red. Then, the sight of eyes so similar to Wesker’s own made her realize that Wesker was _changing_ Chris. Now, faced with the tangible evidence yet again, as well as how vulnerable and scared Chris is of her reaction…

 _I will_ murder _him,_ Chris had once said. If Wesker is still out there, she wants to tear him from limb to limb. Wesker had violated Chris in every sense of the term, and she wasn’t able to stop it. She had barely even gotten him back. If it wasn’t for Chris, they might not even have gotten Wesker out of the plane. If only she could have killed Wesker before he fell out of the plane. Maybe the serum they put into him weakened him enough for the fall to kill him.

Chris’s eyes dart away again. She stifles her ruminations and grabs a first aid kit to take care of his injuries. She grasps for something to say that would fix everything, but draws a blank and decides to focus on taking care of him for now. He tries to sit up, not looking at her as he does. She sighs and holds him still.

“You know that if there was no other choice, I would have done it. But there was a way to save you, Chris. As long as there’s a way, I will save you no matter the consequences, because I know you’d do the same for me.”

She takes off her cap to reveal her changed, blond hair and lightly places a hand on his cheek. “Looks like we both changed because of that bastard.”

Chris touches her hair with his broken right hand. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It…”

“I knew the danger, Chris. It’s not your fault.”  

“Zane...Hosea, Ramiro, Hawkins, I should’ve checked the--”

“Chris, none of you had reason to not trust the intel.” She knows that from the report out of the newly-cleaned up South Africa branch. “It’s not your fault, Chris.”

“You...you didn’t… God, Jill, I wanted to give in. I thought maybe if I did, they...I thought I could save them if I gave in, if I...but he never...he…” He shivers and looks back at her with tearful eyes, voice breaking, “I would’ve…”

“You were in a bad situation, Chris. It’s not your fault.”

“I…”

“You were alone, scared, and being tortured,” she lightly touches the bite marks, stopping when Chris fails to hold back a flinch. “Everyone has breaking points. Wesker knew yours, better than most, and exploited them. It’s ok. It’s not your fault.”

She’ll say this as many times as it takes because it’s all true. The shivering and tears gradually stop.

The sound of a helicopter approaches, followed by Sheva’s return. They help Chris stand, but he is avoiding Sheva’s eyes. Jill hates seeing Chris so upset and vulnerable.

“I’m glad to meet you formally, Captain Redfield,” Sheva says.

He sneaks a glance at her out of the corner of an eye. “Just Chris is fine.”

“Alright. I’m Sheva Alomar. I am the liaison for the Kijuju division of the West Africa branch of the B.S.A.A.. I’ve been working with Jill.”

Josh and Doug are waiting by the helicopter. Doug offers a cheerful grin that goes from ear to ear. Josh nods at Chris in acknowledgment.

“Captain Redfield, good to finally meet you.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

“Well, what else would you like us to say?”

“He doesn’t get to fly!” Doug chimes in. Josh and Sheva glare at him. “WHAT? He doesn’t! I already have a co-pilot, and he needs rest!”

Chris relaxes fractionally, calmed by the familiar sense of camaraderie before him.

“I suppose we all say that because you’ve fought Umbrella and its vestiges for so long. Despite everything that happened, you still managed to end the Uroboros threat, so it’s obviously an honor to meet you.”

Chris’s eyes remain averted, but he smiles weakly, “Thanks...it’s just...hard.”

Jill wants to point out that Chris has just been rescued from a lunatic who was hell-bent on turning him into a sex-slave, but now isn’t the time or place for that. They just needed to get back to base, figure out what Wesker has done to Chris, and work on getting him better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would end it here - the game felt like it should - also I've never heard any good things about the volcano level other than it's where Chris PUNCHES a boulder, so...it's a mountain now.
> 
> Its my story, I'm not adding in a volcano level, I already muted a woman into a giant spider-thing.
> 
> Also chapter 9 shall be FORESHADOWING for the next story. Because there will be a next one. Seriously, RE is as bad as Supernatural in getting me into this...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting Chris back from Wesker, one person in the B.S.A.A has some issues. Meanwhile, Wesker's sister has her own things to focus on, and a strange informant sends them both something to entice them.

“Left shoulder dislocation status post reduction, fracture of the right third and fourth metacarpals, multiple lacerations and contusions to the torso and lower extremities, moderate protein-calorie malnutrition, mild dehydration, mild anal fissure, minimal tearing of the--” The nurse stops reading from the report to shoot Enrique Affini an annoyed glance. “Sir, you wanted the list of Redfield’s ailments.”

“I want to know about his bloodwork, to see if we’re should be expecting something like South Africa or even Raccoon City with him. His other problems are his own to worry about.”

Her glare becomes more accusing, before she continues, “There are low levels of the Prototype virus in his blood samples. Based on our current understanding of the Prototype virus, it is only transmissible via direct inoculation into the bloodstream. Redfield’s viral load is low and he is already starting to produce antibodies against the virus, so he is unlikely to be infectious towards others if proper precautions are taken. However,  as long as the infection remains, there is a chance of unpredictable mutation, as with all derivatives of the Progenitor virus.”

She waits, expecting him to be displeased by the information. That they now have Redfield back is supposed to be a good thing. Maybe it is, but now both Redfield and Valentine are tainted by the legacy of Umbrella, though at least one was not by choice.

“If that’s all, sir, I have work. The doctors will be available if you need to ask more detailed questions.” The nurse leaves with a final Parthian shot - a jab at his level of medical knowledge and the fact that he, the director of B.S.A.A.’s European division, only warranted a _nurse_ to explain things to him.

He curses in Italian, wondering if everyone else in the B.S.A.A. got starry-eyed when faced with the survivors of the Arklay mansion incident. He already had to deal with the fanfare after Jill Valentine was recovered, and now Redfield, even though he’s obviously infected with something...

It would only take one - one infected, one different from the rest, one mutation - and everything would all go to hell. With Valentine, there is at least the benefit of having a cure in her antibodies. Her infection also has not changed her to a significant extent. Redfield, on the other hand, is up in the air. After all, he’d gotten infected from allowing Albert Wesker reign over him.

So what to do with him?

His PDA beeps with an incoming call. “Yes?”

“ _Affini, are you bothering the nurses again about Redfield?_ ” Keith Lumley asks sternly. “ _Because I thought I asked you to stay over in Europe and keep an eye on Little and Ramiro’s recovery. I even suggested a few others to help out if you didn’t want Nivans there._ ”

“I don’t need to be lectured at by someone with an obvious bias towards Redfield. Either way, aren’t you on the other side of the continent from where I am?”

Lumley, after his trip to Finland to obtain information on the FBC and their own director, had relocated to Eastern Africa. Quint Cetcham had stayed in R&D, fulfilling a certain pretty lady’s every whim. He implemented Jill’s idea about having a way to record information on their communication devices almost the moment she suggested it.

“ _You didn’t answer my question,_ ” Lumley sounds as annoyed as the nurse from earlier. Both he and Lumley are technically of the same standing in the B.S.A.A., but Lumley has more pull in West Africa than he does.

 “ _You were sent there to work on the recovery, check on the tanker and the downed plane, and see about tracking Wesker down. But now I’m hearing from Captain Stone and from the others that you’re askin’ questions about Captain Redfield._ ”

“He has yet to regain that--.”

“ _Affini, you’re not in my territory, but you are causing problems. Fuck off from the hospital, leave Redfield alone, and just do your job._ ”

“My job is to--.”

“ _You’re the director of Europe, not Africa, and you’re definitely not the gatekeeper for the B.S.A.A.. So either do your job or fuck off back to Europe before something happens there and you get your balls in a vice for being here instead._ ”

The call ends abruptly. He lets out a huff of anger. This devotion to Redfield’s supposed legacy is nearing the same level as Umbrella’s fanaticism towards their sick causes back in the day. Redfield was compromised, probably still is. Same as Little and Ramiro. They, at least, are under watch, but Redfield is being coddled by nurses and doctors alike. Who else can make sure that what happened with Hawkins doesn’t happen again? Or keep an eye on the Prototype virus, in case it mutates its newest host?

Letting out a sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. Thoughts like this led to Morgan Lansdale and the FBC incident, allowing TRICELL agents to steal the t-Abyss sample. He can watch over Redfield and the others easily enough. He doesn’t have to make the same mistake as the others. He just needs to keep everyone safe, and be smart about it.

He pauses as his PDA gives off another ring, this time signaling an incoming e-mail, from someone he vaguely recognizes as one of the new analysts he recently approved of hiring. The email contains a large attachment. Even though he recognizes the sender, he still scans the files through a few programs before opening up the first of them.

The contents are similar to the file that they got from Wesker when Redfield was first taken, though judging by the size of it, this new file is far more comprehensive than the first. Clicking through the files, he stops at an almost pornographic surveillance photo of Redfield beneath Wesker. Redfield’s head is tilted back, the lust and pleasure clear on his face. There is no hint of anything holding him down. Affini stares at the photo in disgust. It is dated a month after Redfield was taken. A month in...and Redfield was already giving in to Wesker.

=

**_ Sushestvovanie Island- 2010 _ **

 

The blond woman coughs into her hand. When she pulls her hand away, there are spots of blood on the pale skin of her palm. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she wipes the blood away with a handkerchief. She needs a way to get to her brother here to see her work, and, perhaps, see the greatest thing she has completed for their true master.

She leans back in her pristine chair, looking at the monitors displaying the progress of all of her experiments. The island is not the best location, but it is by far a more suitable location for her experiments than that hideous prison Alexa and Alfred ran, before her dear brother had razed it. By then, Umbrella was already floundering. The lack of discipline with Marcus and the Birkins had resulted in the loss of Raccoon City and many valuable test subjects. Simmon’s ploy to erase evidence of his own involvement by nuking the city, not to mention Sergei’s obsession with the Red Queen A.I., were the final nails in the coffin. Their careless pursuit of B.O.W. projects resulted in Umbrella’s ruin. The White Queen A.I. had allowed itself to be taken in by a PMC formed by former Umbrella staff, eager to clean up B.O.W.s and atone for past mistakes.

Traitors, all of them.

Right now, things might go wrong if she’s not careful. She needs to get in a few more subjects to test out her theories. She needs to move herself out of this dying body before it ruins more of the pristine setup she has.

Alex Wesker smiles when she looks at the final monitor, showing a sleeping teenager inside a stasis chamber. “Soon...you’ll be back to us, and I’ll reunite us all together. Soon, my brother will see what we were meant to be. What he failed to see.”

All she needs is to entice Albert to the island, though he’s unlikely come just because she asks. He will either not show up at all or come prepared for every possible contingency.

Her brows furrow when she is alerted of a new email from an unknown sender. The subject is simply “Penelope.” She opens up the email.

**For your consideration, Madam.**

The email is unsigned. The attached file is large and contains data about a trial of a Progenitor virus-based drug that she has not heard of.

She carefully looks over the data. The drug appears to have been designed to encourage Prototype carriers to reproduce, with the goal of ensuring a new generation of superior humans. It was tested on a small group of Prototype carriers, but the drug resulted in unpredictable physical and psychological changes and was abandoned as a result. She lets out a gasp of surprise at the last bit of information: her brother was exposed to the drug via sexual contact with one of his former subordinates, a man named Chris Redfield. His name is familiar, as she had looked into the Redfields after they destroyed Rockfort Prison and killed Alexia, leaving the t-Veronica virus out of reach. For two months, Albert was focused on Redfield and had taken him multiple times. Redfield had subsequently shown signs of Prototype infection, and now was beginning to show interesting antibodies as well, ones based on the Prototype that Albert had injected himself with to remain alive after the Spencer Mansion incident in 1998.

The second email, titled “Telemachus”, is as surprising as the first. It contains an old photo of her brother with a red-headed woman and the background information standard Umbrella took of the woman, Magdalena Muller. There is an Edonian birth certificate for a Jake Muller with no father listed. A police mugshot of a young man with a head of shocking red hair is more than enough for her put the pieces together.

 _My little brother gave me a nephew, with antibodies from_ his _Progenitor that we got. Now, he’s given me another, with new antibodies, untested, and ready to be taken._

_Still, what is with those names?_

She dislikes this, as she has yet to find a Gregor for her own Grete, but perhaps her nephew can help her finalize everything. Perhaps the allure of the unknown, of finding his so-called ‘Penelope’ and ‘Telemachus’ would be enough to call her brother Albert home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Resident Evil 6 and Revelations 2...
> 
> ......what the hell have I gotten myself into?  
> Wesker: I get Chris back?
> 
> me: *sighs, starts rewatching the game movies of those two*


End file.
